


The Devil's Bite

by SweetBrew



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Gen, Graphic Violence later on, I really love commas, M/M, Minor Violence, Origin Story, Slow Burn, Vigilante AU, college student jonas, my passionate love for Sidney Wagner, superhero jonas, supervillan mitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:16:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetBrew/pseuds/SweetBrew
Summary: Jonas didn’t ask for this.  He really really didn’t.  He thinks there are literally millions of better people that should have gotten powers but fate… or maybe just dumb luck, chose him instead.  Jonas was barely doing anything “heroic” at the time anyway.  Super unremarkable.   Just a tiny, fraction of a chance that a pipe would burst in a nondescript facility based near an equally bland town for an underwhelming college kid visiting home to unwittingly stumble into his own superhero origin story…  how lame.





	1. Chapter 1

Jonas didn’t ask for this.  He really  _ really _ didn’t.  He thinks there are literally millions of better people that  _ should _ have gotten powers but fate… or maybe just dumb luck, chose  _ him _ instead.  Jonas was barely doing anything “heroic” at the time anyway.  Super unremarkable.   Just a tiny, fraction of a chance that a pipe would burst in a nondescript facility based near an equally bland town for an underwhelming college kid visiting home to unwittingly stumble into his own superhero origin story…  how lame.

 

* * *

 

Two years into college, Jonas comes home to Sellwood during breaks.  Jonas likes Sellwood much better since moving to Sacramento, spending short breaks in the home he grew up in and minimizing contact with his adoptive father is a much better arrangement.

 

Jonas arrives earlier than his sister, who would have driven with him if it weren’t for a last-minute exam.  This made the ride unusually quiet, glad to finally be crunching through dry leaves up to the house he was raised in for Thanksgiving.  It goes as every break does, with a practiced routine.  

 

Through the superficial greetings, hugging Dean and Sue, and entertaining the usual lull of conversation and questions about school and if he’s found a girlfriend and how that internship is working out and it goes on and on. 

 

It’s exhausting, and he quickly grows tired.

 

Eventually, the desire to be alone for a little while takes Jonas.  It’ll be easier once Sidney gets here.  He reminds himself, forcing cheer into his tone as he excuses himself.  Out the door, claiming to want to see how Sellwood has changed since his last visit, the door shutting before anyone can oppose.

 

It hasn’t, but there are some places here he never wants to change.

 

The roads are in the same shape as they always have been, and the damage the flood caused several years back has become less evident, trees returning, but there is a clear thinning of wildlife here.  Close to the shore, all he hears is wind.  

 

“Been awhile, huh?”  He asks the wind, which blew his curls gently around his ears in response.  The sun isn’t quite touching the sea, but it is still casting shadows as he climbs down the rocks down to the beach. The tension slowly dissipates as Jonas stretches easily, taking deep breaths, and feels the sand on his soles.  

 

This is really what he needed.  Jonas signs, feeling the clean air purify his lungs of the anxiety of seeing Dean, and the shifting sand calms him.  “God… this place hasn’t changed one bit.”  A smile eases onto his face as he stares out to the ocean, watching the wave lap the shore twenty feet in front of him. 

 

It’s time for a short swim.

 

Jonas grins, sitting in the sand and taking off his sneakers and socks, careful to avoid getting excess sand in them.  Deep down, he knows that the effort is in vain, but Jonas doesn’t mind.  The sea is calling him and he’ll be damned if he lets a little bit of sand ruin his good mood. 

 

Quickly, he wades into the water otherwise clothed, feeling the wet sand in his toes and foamy water tickling his ankles and calves.  He wants to enjoy this moment until it’s too dark for him to stay.  The water feels pleasantly cool along with the wind, encouraging Jonas to move a little further.  Here, the water is at his knees as he bends down to pick up stones and shells, admiring the smooth texture and groves before tossing them away from his feet.  The water is clear, and even the highest arc of water rolling in doesn’t touch the cuff of his shorts.  The rock pickings are easy here, and the smooth sand begs him to bury his fingers deep.

 

A flash of light.

 

“What?”  Jonas straightens cautiously, something lit up in his peripheral, something not quite right.  It almost startling, Jonas wades in the direction of the light.  Metal perhaps?  But no, there is nothing sharp sticking up for Jonas to see.  No, not sharp, something slick covering a nearby rock tossing a silky orange light into Jonas’ eyes.  Pretty, but still not right.

 

_ Oil?  That can’t be good, _ Jonas thinks to himself face scrunching up, wondering if some terrible person had the nerve to dump oil somewhere nearby.  How wrong, Jonas’ mood dips instantly.

 

He shuffles closer to the rocks that mark the end of the shallows.  He’s hoping to see it was just a small spill before spotting a lump floating on the surface just past the rocks, slick, black, orange, even gooey, and-- oh god it’s moving.  It’s a bird.  

 

Jonas feels his heart worry in his chest.  It’s hurt, probably poisoned or drowning under all that oil.  Jonas’s heart brings him quickly to the animal, scooping it up cautiously.  The slimy black stuff slides over his fingers and up his wrists, Jonas is screaming inside the whole way back to the shore because of how disgusting this stuff feels.  

 

“Ooooh god, oh god this is gross.  Yuck, I can’t imagine how you feel.”  Jonas frowns down at the sluggish mass of soaked feathers, and goop.  He’s still trying to brave through the way his skin crawls and the urge to shrink away from this stuff.

 

Mercifully, it does not smell like oil, but it definitely smells… off.  Great, unidentifiable slug.  At least Jonas has two hands to focus on gently trying to separate slug from feather, it’s slow progress but the last thing Jonas wants is to hurt the poor thing.  Weak stomach be damned, all this terribly gross work is making this bird more and more distinguishable from floating trash.  That’s good at least.

 

Several minutes later, the water surrounding Jonas has grown darker and darker.  Jeez, all this pollution turns Jonas’ stomach, but finally, the bird is looking clean enough to move to the sand.  

 

Gently, Jonas lays it down on a flat rock, wishing he had a towel when the bird twitches.  Jonas watches anxiously, “Come on little guy, you’re cleaner now, you’ll be fine, right?”  The sky has grown darker, there is so little time left.  

 

There is no way he could bring the bird with him to recover.  How would be rationalize this to Dean?  On top of that he has no food, clean water, or a towel, so what is he supposed to do?  Just leave it here?  What about predators?  Jonas cautiously runs his fingers over the bird’s side, trying to coax the bird to show him it’ll survive alone, and set him at ease.  

 

“Come on… You’re okay right?”  Jonas looks at the bird, feeling his soul drip with empathy for the poor thing.  It doesn’t deserve this.

 

All at once, it stops moving.  Jonas waits a minute, then two, holding his breath.  He swallows hard, he can’t feel it breathing anymore.  It’s dead.

 

Dammit.  

 

Tears are already welling up.  Jonas’ chest squeezes harshly as he huffs a breath out.  This sucks.  Reason echoes in the background of his sadness: he did everything he could, but it was clearly too far gone to have survived, it isn’t his fault… this still sucks.  

 

Jonas wipes his eyes, biting his lip to keep it from trembling.  Quietly, Jonas curses himself for getting so attached and wishing he could have done more, stands.  With haste, Jonas puts his socks and shoes back on.  He doesn’t want to be here anymore.   

 

The last time he touches the bird is to leave it close to the edge of the water, hopefully, it shall be taken out to sea, so the reminder of what happened here will be erased and he can enjoy this place again.  He cries on the ride home, but the wind dries all the evidence away.  The red under his eyes is a little more prominent than usual.  Sidney is there when he gets home and his spirits are revived as they joke and smile the rest of the night.  The bird floats to the edge of Jonas’ mind, out to sea.  He doesn’t tell Sidney about the bird.

 

If he had known the repercussions of what he’d done,  he’d have run from the water and never come back.

 

* * *

Sidney has always been there for Jonas.  Always had his back, would even fight for him without Jonas even needing to ask.  There is no one else he’d have trusted more after he woke up the next morning with lights dancing around his room, delirious, barely comprehending what his eyes were feeding to his brain as Sidney shook him awake, shrilly whispering.  All at once he snapped into consciousness.  The light was blinding and only seemed to get worse. 

 

“Joey!  Joey you need to stop!  Whatever you’re doing is going to wake up the whole house!”   _ What?  This was him?  Oh God, what is this!? _

 

Jonas blinks blearily at her, mirroring her wide-eyed stare and for a moment he’s convinced this is just a nightmare, but Sidney’s hands on his shoulders are real.  This is all real and this is scary, the room is glowing green behind Sidney’s head, “Joey, you need to stop.  We’re at home, no one knows… just… stop.”  

 

Her voice is shaking but Jonas nods and breathes, the light dims, and it’s quiet.  Sidney stares at the wisps of changing light fade around the room, “Thank you…” She’s relieved, or maybe just overwhelmed.  Or maybe Jonas has no idea what she’s feeling because Jonas doesn’t even know what  _ he _ is feeling at this moment.  He just feels… frozen.

 

What the hell.  What the hell was that?  What the hell did he just do?  Were those lights him?  What is going on?  Is this real?  Was it that slug that killed the bird?  Did it poison him?  Is he going to be okay?  What does this mean for his future?

 

Now this is overwhelming, Jonas sits up and stares around the room, the tremble starts in his lip and Sidney looks back at him just in time to see the first tears.

 

She was perfect when she needed to be.  He needed her and she was there when he cried, telling her what happened on the beach, going back to the cove to show her and when it wasn’t there anymore, she still believed him.  The only evidence she needed was her brother’s word and the strange light show that danced around them.  

 

A rock amongst his fear and confusion.  Not to say she wasn’t as confused as he was, he could see it on her face, she didn’t entirely know what to do either.  But she still stayed, her support never wavered, of course it didn’t.  He really does have the best sister in the world.  He hugged her and she smiled, promising that she’d help him through it… but only if she got to see what his powers can do.  

 

She chattered the entire trip to the cove.  Already much more comfortable with all this than Jonas was.  Or maybe she just stopped trying to wrap her head around it.  That might be a good idea.  Jonas should probably try that.  Seems a lot better than thinking himself in circles about this whole situation.

Sidney’s smiles made it manageable.  If she wasn’t freaking out, then maybe he really was overthinking all this.  The cove quickly fills with laughter, Sidney chucking rocks at Jonas’ lights to see if she could poke holes in them.  Amazingly, even her hardest throw couldn’t pierce it.  

 

“They’re like shields!” She shouted, grinning ear to ear.  She loved it, much more than Jonas did.  She loved the way Jonas could change the colors and wrap them in the gorgeous light as the sky grew darker.  They just sat on the beach and watched.  Maybe this is what it’s like to watch the northern lights.  It certainly feels as magical as Jonas thought it would be.  His fingers itch for a camera, but he doesn’t have the heart to interrupt this yet, so they stay this way a while longer until it was too dark to see outside of their little circle of light.

 

They are quiet on the way home, tired, this was exhausting.  They smile before bed, knowingly before laying down to sleep, and finally, darker thoughts resurface… he was scared of his powers.  What if he couldn’t hide them?  What would happen in the future?  In the background of their laughter and games, anxiety buzzed, growing, he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever.  
  


* * *

 

 

Six months later Sidney pops the question that’s been slowly burning a hole in his brain since the morning he woke up with light projection powers.  They’re sitting in his apartment in Sacramento binge-watching crappy Netflix movies, eating junk food and laughing.  Sidney leaning her back against the couch, shrouding in a comforter taken from Jonas’ bed.  It was supposed to be casual, but he could sense her genuine interest.  “So, have you thought about what you’re going to do with your powers?”

 

His stomach drops through the couch, and he hides behind a can of soda, maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear her, she won’t push.  After several long seconds of silence filled only by the movie playing, Sidney glances at him from the floor, purposefully, waiting.  So much for avoidance.  Jonas speaks up, “Um… I kind of just figured I’d keep it a secret forever.  Just, stay normal, you know?”  They’ve had various versions of this conversation but none as direct as this.  It makes him nervous, but he tries to keep his voice level, nonchalant,  _ chill _ .  Obviously, he’s failing.

 

Sidney doesn’t give him a second, “Really?  But like, that’s so boring.  Your powers are awesome they’d be going to waste if you just hid them forever you know?” She throws an M&M in the air and catches it in her mouth, pulling off nonchalant way better, but the way she avoids his eye makes Jonas frown.  “Real subtle, Sid.” He deadpans. 

 

Jonas knows she’s not being judgemental, she just believes in him more than he does.  However, he isn’t comfortable with what she’s poking at, following up before she has a chance to speak up. “Sidney we’ve talked about this.  There is no way I can just put on a mask and become a  _ superhero! _  That’s so dangerous!!  You know I’m not that brave.”  Sidney’s that brave, his brain echoes unhelpfully.

 

Sidney hangs her head back, resting it on the couch from her seat on the floor, looking up at him.  “Jo, I didn’t say that.  I’m just saying that maybe you should really put some thought into this!”  She pulls herself up onto the couch, facing him more directly, “You could do a lot of good, doesn’t mean you have to go full-on  _ Batman _ and make it your double life!”  

 

Jonas scrunches his nose and Sidney stretches her legs out on top of his, trapping him.  “The baddies couldn’t touch you anyway!  You got LIGHT SHIELDS on your side, no need to get physical if they can’t get close, can they?  It could be like-- part-time!” 

 

She’s ramping up for a whole lecture on this, Jonas knows it, “and who says you have to take on entire gangs, like, you could beat up purse-snatchers.  Of course, not exactly  _ chasing them _ but definitely stopping them with aaaaaa, light lasso!!” Sidney crosses her arms like Wonder Woman, grinning at him, her tone growing more excited.  Jonas doesn’t want to hear this right now, but can’t stop the laugh that comes out of him, he smiles “ _ Sid _ .  I think  _ you _ should be the one with the powers, you’d be great at all that but… I just, I can’t do that.”  _ I’m not good enough for that _ .  Jonas curses inside, chest tightening and stands up, pushing her legs off him smoothly before Sidney can get another word in.

 

“Really, Sid, I’d love to.  But on what planet would I make a good  _ superhero? _  You protected me all through school, I’d be a punching bag!”

 

Sidney hesitantly concedes, throwing her hands up with a sigh of surrender, legs pulling underneath her, smiling at him anyway, “Okay, okay.  I get it, I’m sorry.  I just, I just want you to know that if you ever decide to be a vigilante… I’ll be in your corner.  I really think you could do some great things.  Even if you don’t, you’ll still do great things.”  

 

Jeez, Jonas smiles at her, feeling a squeeze of affection and plucks the empty bowl from the floor and goes to refill it, out of her line of sight, Jonas responds,“Well, I’ll let you know.” That’s good enough for Sidney, and they settle back down for the night, but it still eats at Jonas, what it means to be a vigilante…

 

Nah, what was he thinking anyway?

 

* * *

 

Two months later, Jonas can’t change the channel.  He’s abandoned his cereal to investigate a startling headline “Supernatural Bank Robbery Downtown”.

 

_ What. _

 

There is a video of it all.  A shaky camera from inside the bank shows only part of the event.

 

The floor is littered with debris, clearly, it has been some time since the gang arrived on scene.  A desk is hurled across the camera’s view from the right, people are screaming, the camera whirls in the direction it came from.  Ten individuals in vastly different masks move in.  The leader is undeniable, and the only one not carrying a gun.  In fact, he isn’t carrying any weapon at all.  Arms spread, he gestures for his underlings to either watch the hostages or circle the vault.  Organized, very clearly planned.  The camera’s view becomes incredibly obscured as an underling in a black mask moves in.  You get one last glimpse of the lanky leader before a masked assailant rips the phone away, audio crackling.  It cuts out.

 

The broadcast is not finished, more coverage, Jonas finds a seat on the couch without thinking, pulled in.  The rest of the city must be pulled in too.  Waking up this morning to learn what Jonas was learning now.  

 

It’s ten in the morning, this all happened four hours ago, as businesses started to gear up for the day, managers arriving, the first employees around.  The street and foot traffic relatively low at that hour, thank goodness, but that works in their favor.  

 

No one knows who this gang is.  All leads point to no existing organization, this is all new.  The masks are new, the man is new, his  _ powers _ the newest of all and it’s all anyone can focus on.

 

There are two more videos.  The second is steadier, clearly at least a few minutes after the first.  Outside the destroyed bank.  Documenting the damage and oh, this is the money shot, from across the street from the second story of a building.  This is the perfect wide shot of the scene.  This one is steadier, voices whisper and talk around the camera.

 

Surprisingly there are relatively few gang members.  Jonas counts quickly, ten, fifteen?  No more than twenty members rushing from the bank with large black bags.  The ones holding little to nothing, are firing down the street away from the camera’s view, to the right, in the direction of flashing red and blue and the shrill screams of people and sirens.  The lights are flashing off all the glass windows characteristic of such an upscale area of the city.  The leader has emerged from the bank, pointing his gang in different directions and they follow like good soldiers amidst the chaos. 

Jonas screams when it happens, a police car roars towards the gang as they try to get into their getaway vans starting to slow as it enters the frame.  The leader stops in the middle of the street and does something incredible.

 

He lifts his arm, standing directly in the path of the car and the car  _ lifts _ .  Like a plane taking off, it flies right over his head with what looks like  _ inches _ to spare and tips forward dangerously, crunching the hood and front end as it lands, skidding across the pavement, throwing up sparks and screeching to a halt as it loses momentum.  Jonas is shaken, so is the camera, wobbling and voices shrieking, all watching the leader climb into a van, smoke thrown up from the abused tires and the vans rush off screen, and the video cuts off.

 

_ Jesus Christ. _

 

Jonas scrambles for more news; turns out the cops in the crunched car are in critical condition.  Hurt, but alive.  Yes, the gang got away, not before causing substantial damage to a street full of cars, by either levitating them into the middle of the road to buy time or flat out destroying the cop cars themselves.  

 

The entire city is terrified.  Hell, the whole country doesn’t know what to do.  

 

His phone starts ringing from the other room, it startles Jonas, who trips across the room to pick it up, finally freed from the television’s grip.

 

“Did you see the news?”  Sidney barks urgently without introduction, he has, he coughs and swallows to help the words out, “Just now, yeah… it’s…” He trails off,  _ there’s another one _ he thinks in his stupor, eyes roaming back to the screen, the broadcaster orders another sweeping look at the damage.  Pictures and videos of the streets the vans passed through.

 

Sidney starts again in his ear, calling his attention back “Jesus, it’s terrible, I’m already at work but everyone is talking about it.  This guy has telekinesis or something.  I think we just found-”  Jonas cuts her off with detached wonder, “another one like me.”  Or perhaps, it was horror.

 

Sidney quiets on the other end of the line for a moment, “Jonas are you okay?  I think I’ll come over after work.”  Jonas comes back to himself, with effort and his voice sounds thin and strained, “No.  No!  I’m fine… I just… I just thought I was the only one.”  Jonas leans against the kitchen table, tearing his eyes away from the screen long enough to notice that his toast has been ready for several minutes now.  “Do you think he’s from Sellwood too?  Otherwise… this isn’t just a Sellwood incident.”  That scares him.

 

“Jo, you still there?”  He can hear controlled anxiety in her voice, he realizes that he was lost in his thoughts.  She brings him back, like always.  “Yeah, Sid.  I’ll be fine.  I promise.  Maybe we should order a pizza tonight.  I could use the company, we can have another movie night.”  He fakes a cheerful tone, turning away from the TV, but it’s still stuck in his eyes, replaying in idle moments, between words and breaths.

Jonas quickly wraps up the conversation, hurriedly, as all this new information was like cement in his mind, sticking down his throat.  Weighing him down, he can’t escape it.  He needs to find a seat again.

 

_ He’s like you. _

 

The tears flow out of him, somehow his head ends up in his hands and his stomach in his throat.   _ Oh God.  He’s like you. _

 

But that’s not it.  Not quite, he’s thinking about the victims.  The innocents, the people just trying to go about their lives didn’t ask for this.  To get caught in the crossfire of what people like him can do.  There were no deaths but a man nearly lost his hand, people are traumatized, injured.

 

It’s senseless.

 

This is only part of the reason why he cries with his hands on his face. A twist in his chest pushes out an answer he hates:  _ He’s stronger than you. _

 

* * *

 

Gang activity increases steadily in Sacramento over the next four months, now it’s the beginning of spring and the city has been braced for more bank robberies and flying cars but the city remains relatively quiet other than the heightened danger on the streets and higher crime rates.  But there are no flying cars.  The overall anxiety has leveled out.  However, the gang has since named themselves,  _ The Devil’s Teeth _ .

 

All news regarding them notes that the group is swelling with members since the public display four months ago.  While this is true, they’ve stuck to relatively small crimes, or that’s all the police have been able to link them to.  They deal drugs, sell illegal arms and regularly end up in firefights with rival gangs, in the end, they’re the same as everything else in this city.

 

The threat of extreme, supernatural force still looms.  The real muscle of it keeps tension in the city.  It has most people keeping their heads down.

 

Jonas hates it.  So does Sidney, who has unsurprisingly started commenting about what she’d do if she was on this douchebag’s level.  Talking about taking TDT apart to stop the violence.  She doesn’t push too hard and Jonas doesn’t push back, quietly thinking about the good his powers could do, how one would use them.  Oh come on, who the hell is  _ he _ to jump into the fray?   _ Nobody. _  Unnoticed, Jonas shrinks into himself a little, adding something snarky to cover it up.

 

It makes him anxious to see the news talk about TDT, but something in him almost compulsively find out as much as the public knows about their leader.  From the very few appearances, he’s made.  Witnesses say he’s loud, very tall, and he’s always wearing a weird green mask with red smudges on it.  He’s imposing, scary, and Jonas’ mind easily contorts his image to a terrifying devil of a man that could tear him apart with his thoughts.  It does nothing for his anxiety and more often than not leaves him regretting looking it up in the first place.

 

Sidney should have gotten powers, not him.  He’s thought so since the question of what he could do with his powers first came up between them.  Now, Jonas lays in bed, staring at the ceiling as he has more and more often lately and thinks.  What can he really do?  Would he really be able to be a vigilante?  Sidney thought so.  Maybe that counts for something, he trusts her.  He peers towards the door to the living room, where his sister snoozes quietly after the movie marathon they have every week.

 

Sometime between thoughts, Jonas falls asleep and the idea chases him into his dreams.  Gleaming light dancing above the earth.

 

* * *

 

Sidney spends more and more time at Jonas’ house now leading to an increasing stock of junk food and mess in their wake.  Luckily Jonas lives alone, so they can laugh and throw popcorn at each other into the wee hours of the morning without fear of judgment.

 

This is a newer routine, and Jonas enjoys it.  Seriously he has no idea how he enjoyed his free time without these frequent visits back and forth between their apartments.  Tonight is no different, they are supposed to play video games, the overall loser has to do whatever the winner says.  Sidner has already threatened to put Jonas on a street corner in his underwear with a sign that says something like “I’m a weenie that goes to Weenie Hut Jr.”  

 

Jonas doesn’t know what he’d have her do, but fear of his sister’s threat looms heavily over Jonas.  “Oh yeah?? Well, if I win you have to ask that cute girl you work with out on a date!” He grins at her shock, escaping to the kitchen, grabbing a few bottles of soda, water, and various snacks and candies to supplement their gaming power.  Sidney groans and complains from the other room.

 

Upon collection of all available snacks, Jonas realizes he is woefully unprepared.  Jonas feels a pang of embarrassment, relaying the news to his sister setting up the first game and creating a score sheet for their bet, “Um, Sid?” he starts, drawing her attention.  Her head pops into Jonas’ view distracted from her task, “Yeah?  What’s up, JoJo?”

 

Jonas smiles ruefully, he watches her take in the expression, preparing herself for the bad news, “I kind of forgot to buy Doritos, and maybe anything other than stale potato chips… Gotta head up the street to the corner store.”  Sid throws her head back and groans flamboyantly, “Joey, come on!  Get it together!!!” She draws out his name obnoxiously, but breaks into a grin, shattering the facade of annoyance, “I’ll head up the street, you stay here and set up the pillow fort, I’m counting on you to make it awesome before I get back.  In fact, to pay me back for this you gotta get those lights from your room and make it as hipster as possible.  Go nuts!!!” Sidney shrugs on a hoodie and slips on her shoes.

Just before slipping out the door Sidney looks back and points a mischievous finger at him, “By the way, I’m picking up my favorites… maybe not yours.” She giggles and winks at him as he shakes his head with a small smile, “yeah yeah, I’ll do that, you sure you don’t wanna watch me try and get the lights down from the ceiling?  It will take me longer to do that than for you to start beating me at this game challenge.  Start preparing your pick-up lines, Sid.”  He raises his eyebrow at her, sneering good-naturedly when she sticks out her tongue and closes the door, leaving him alone to do as she says... Minus the lights he struggled to put up in the first place.

 

Instead of lights, Jonas gets inventive and puts a few glow sticks on a string and hanging them on the fort.  Then he lines the floor under the fort with fluffy blankets, and puts even more blankets around the edges, making a small hill that they can both easily pull up over their heads if they so pleased.

 

It’s a pretty sweet fort, Jonas thinks, adjusting the blankets and hunting around the kitchen for paper towels and a pen and pad to keep score.  It doesn’t take much longer to finish the fort to optimal comfort and coziness, now all that’s missing is a larger variety of snacks and his sister.

 

It’s been a while.  Maybe just a little too long, Jonas thinks.  

 

A thick presence sits in his gut, it means something is wrong, but maybe Jonas is just being anxious and paranoid.  Jeez, Sidney can take care of herself, Jonas’ eyebrows press closer together, not quite able to convince himself that everything is okay.  He needs proof, he’s already rattling off a quick text, “Still at the store?”  It’s innocent enough, Jonas thinks, and now he waits.

 

Five minutes. Maybe she’s got both hands full with bags,  that’s plausible.  Sidney might not have heard her phone, or maybe she saw someone she knew at the store or on the way home.  Yeah, that’s it.  It’s ten o’clock at night but college kids are around, Sidney has a lot of friends around here.  Nevertheless, the presence is getting heavier, moving up under his ribs and maybe it’s getting a little hard to breathe and his hands are restless.  Maybe he should have gone with her to the store.

 

At seven minutes something happens, Jonas jumps even though he was already looking at his phone, the text tone sounding more like a shriek.  

 

Oh God.  Jonas feels his throat close up, and that presence in his gut expand out of control and he feels frozen as the text hits him in layers of meaning, at first barely comprehending.

 

_ Help gangat store traped _

 

That’s it.  The terror is only starting to let loose inside of him when the phone shrieks again, another text.

 

_ its tdt jo call police. Hiding. Ilu. _

 

Jonas wheezes under a shudder, oh god, oh god.   _ Sidney _ .  

 

His knees nearly give out and Jonas is shaking, he dials clumsily with one hand and fishes for the remote while the call is being put through.  The news.  It’s all over the news, not Sidney, but the robberies.  It’s  _ everywhere. _  The Devil’s Teeth has staged a web of crimes, blanketing most of this part of the city.  

 

The dispatcher is on the other line, demanding his emergency, under all the training there is stress and wear in the woman’s voice.  His eyes are set on the television and his mouth moves on automatically, “Uh-um.  My sister is trapped in a convenience store, on, on-” He keeps going but he’s going slack against the couch, wide-eyed.  He realizes he’s one of the hundreds of calls this woman has heard in the last hour.  His emergency is no different.

 

The reporter echoes what he’s already come to terms with, setting it in stone that sends him into collapse, “The Sacramento Police Department is doing everything they can to address the surge of crime.  There is new information that there is a bigger break-in unfolding at this moment at Stockman’s Bank, the lobby has been ripped apart by the masked telekinetic leader of the gang that calls themselves The Devil’s Teeth.”  A video takes over the screen, masked figures walking up the bank steps as the doors are ripped away, destroying some of the building’s structure itself in the rough ferocity of the leader’s wake.

 

The woman in his ear sighs despite herself, spread too thin, just like her coworkers responding to the panic all over town, unspoken, she tells him as she gives him another scripted answer,  _ “We can’t save your sister.  We don’t have enough manpower.”  _

 

Jonas hangs up and rises, impossibly, from the couch that seemed to want to suck him into ultimate inaction.  But he can’t reconcile what everything around him is telling him at this moment.  He father is a cop, he was raised understand that when all else fails, the trained defenders of the public would swoop in when you needed them to.  He can’t believe that in his greatest moment of need, for someone to help his sister, there is  _ no one _ that can help.  It goes down like acid and comes back up again, making him choke.

 

_ No.   _ The dozens and dozens of horrible fates his sister could be subjected to drag him to the bathroom and he throws up in the toilet.   _ No. _  He screams under the thoughts and emotions swirling inside him as he flushes the bowl and wipes his face with a slack hand, gasping for air as his eyes water from more than just the unpleasant vomit.

 

The police are human too, it isn’t their fault that they don’t have the abilities that allow them to help the way that this situation demands.  For good to win.  To save his sister from possible  _ death _ if she hasn’t already been-  _ NO. _

 

Jonas obliterates that thinking before it breaks him apart, he’s afraid.  He's storming up the stairs, like a bull in a china shop.  Ripping clothes from hangers,  drawers out of the dresser, contents spilling onto the floor, digging for hoodies, for knee pads, a scarf.  Stringing along frantic, fleeting ideas of what a barely acceptable “battle armor” would look like if it were coming out of his closet.  

 

Jonas frowns at what his flimsy wardrobe offers, fighting for the dexterity to pull this ensemble together without wasting precious moments.  Sidney’s voice plays in his head.  Pushing him through the motions, clothes on, shoes on, gloves on, knee pads on, hat hung low, hood up, scarf wrapped carefully around the lower half of his face, up to the bridge of his nose, and he’s as ready as he’ll ever be.  

 

Jonas stands in the middle of his room and stares at his reflection in the mirror hung on his door, Sidney’s words come back again.  _ I really think you could do some great things. _  It fills his lungs, body shaking but something shifts in Jonas’ head, clicking into place.  Jonas has never felt the type to be a hero, but his  _ sister _ is out there with loads of other people trapped by a gang waving guns around.  He’s needed, and for all the hard times and struggles Jonas has had, he knows he’s not weak.  Not for this, not for his sister, this is important.  The breath escapes as Jonas grabs the door handle and rushing out, fleeing from safety.

 

It’s been fifteen minutes since Sidney’s last text, Jonas prays to whatever more powerful thing above him that he’s not too late.  He can’t be too late.

 

* * *

 

The gritty convenience store three blocks from his apartment is the main source of light at this time of night.  The street lamps providing spotty cones of light on the sidewalk into the street which, ironically, Jonas avoids for safety.  It takes an out of breath, and severely under-prepared Jonas hardly two minutes to reach it.  Pressed against the wall, just out of view across the street, hiding in the shadow behind a car.  

 

It’s deathly quiet, a city is never this quiet.  Jonas feels the need to go back indoors, follow everyone else’s lead, the city is frozen in fear and now that he’s here it’s hard to stop the atmosphere from seeping into his body and threatening all that determination that brought him here.  This is so much more important than his fear.  He’s here to save people.

 

Like an exclamation point, responding to Jonas’ thoughts, a crash shatters the window across the street.  A man shouts aggressively from inside,  _ “YOU THINK I’M FUCKING AROUND OLD MAN?  WHERE’S THE REST?” _

 

Jonas scurries to the next car, pressing his chest against the side, peeking over the hood to see three masked men carrying large, scary guns that are definitely illegal around here hulk around the store like gorillas.  Making themselves appear larger, meaning to intimidate with their jerky movements.  There is but one civilian that Jonas can see.  It’s not Sidney.

 

A shaking man with his hands in the air held by the front of his shirt is being jerked around by the gangbanger who must have shouted and broken the window in the first place.  Jonas can’t hear him from here but whatever he said wasn’t to his captor’s liking, and the old man found himself being shoved nearly over the counter, the violence sends him to the ground, out of Jonas’ view.

 

The other two keep bending down and pulling items off the floor, Jonas swallows hard, the rest of the people in the store must be on the ground.  The implications making his hands shake more, balling into fists and violent breaths force through his nose.  Time to do something.  There is no more time to do anything else.  

 

If they killed Sidney they are going to pay, even if they didn’t, they are going to pay.  Maybe not with their lives, but certainly with some hurt if Jonas has anything to say about it.

 

Jonas sweeps his eyes around the street, half a block up a car with no lights on sits in the middle of the street.  A closer look makes it clear that there is soft exhaust escaping into the night as it passes through the stream of light.  A getaway car.  That’s a pretty big problem.  A problem for later, Jonas resolves, making a quick, stupid plan that absolutely has to work.  Take down the bad guys in the store, then take down the bad guys in the car.  Easy peasy.

 

Regardless of the possible outcomes, Jonas steps out from behind the car, into the street.  Breathing with control, trying to rev the engine in he imagines in his chest, feeling the lights come to him easily, surrounding him, for a moment.  Ready.  No people can get hurt.  No one but the scumbags waving guns around.  A smile peaks as he sees it.  His opportunity, the old man has dropped to the floor again.  One bad guy… Two bad guys, THREE.  

 

With a huge sweeping motion, Jonas sends a massive wave of light into the convenience store.  Thick, like a gift ribbon, two or three feet tall, aimed at chest height, it smashes through every single window in the store and hits like a wall. 

Jonas watches the masked men receive the ribbon of light, carefully thrown, to incapacitate instead of severing their bodies in not-quite halves.  They fall like they were clotheslined, the top of their bodies falling one way as their legs sweep another, resulting in a devastating fall that Jonas doesn’t have the pleasure of seeing.  The noise was deafening, shocking even Jonas, who caused the mayhem in the first place.  The getaway car reacts.

 

Right.  The car.  Crap.

 

Startled, Jonas swings towards the car, quick enough to see the driver stumble out of the car in disoriented surprise, swing a handgun in Jonas’ general direction, drawn by the crazy lights making him a big, flashing, target.  Oops.  Jonas should have thought about this harder.

 

Jonas’ response is, unsurprisingly, also without thought.  He’s shrieking and swinging his arm up to cover his face, instinctively, squeezing his eyes shut like if he doesn’t see the gun it isn’t going to kill him.  Without meaning to, Jonas releases a diagonal slash towards the man.  His aim is messy, just like the driver’s, and it drags up asphalt as it hurls just past the driver and instead, embeds itself in the car. 

 

The car crunches, sucking in under the blade of light, but it dissipates before ripping the car entirely in half.  Screaming, the driver fires a shot at Jonas, tripping away from the car, missing dismally before promptly falling face-first into the unforgiving asphalt.  Jonas trips backward, into the car, which saves him from an ass-bruising fall.

 

The masked driver doesn’t get up, and Jonas thanks his lucky stars, apparently the guy had knocked himself unconscious and likely broken a few bones in his face with how harshly he smashed into the ground.  Jonas can’t bring himself to feel bad and instead, eyes the convenience store.

 

It’s destroyed, and no one has stood yet, another worrying sign.  Frantically, Jonas crosses the street and shoves open the broken door.

 

“SIDNEY?!”  Jonas flicks his eyes across the store, apparently, there were only a handful of customers trapped, they all shake on the floor, flinching at his voice.  There is no blood that Jonas can see, no pools, everyone seems alive.  Quickly Jonas speaks, pulling the scarf up further, “You’re all safe, the gang members are all knocked out!”

 

Hesitantly, a few pairs of owlish eyes stare at him, but none of them move more than a few inches, Jonas grows frustrated, “GO! NOW!” He shouts, hoarse like he’s been shouting all night.  He wonders if he sounds as nearly hysterical as he feels, finally customers bolt up, clumsily fleeing into the street past him.  Sparing him no time, no thank yous, he doesn’t care, watching every face as it passes looking for the right one.  He waits.  

 

All the customers pass him before a half-crouched figure emerges from behind one of the shelves in the back of the store, eyes tearing up.  Jonas gasps with overwhelming relief, feeling the urge to cry. 

 

Sidney gets it, she knows it’s him and he watches delight break over her features.  She stands fully and rushes towards him, “JOEY!”  She yelps, and he’s pulled towards her, meeting her halfway.  They collide, legs buckling, and Jonas chokes out a sputtering sob.  It feels odd, for once it’s not from sadness, it’s from delight and gratitude crashing over him.  Sidney is squeezing him and it hurts.  Jonas is happy it hurts, couldn’t be more excited to be in pain as it solidifies the knowledge that Sidney is no longer in danger, and that she’s right here, with him, and he loves her.

Around them, the store is in complete disarray.  Every flat surface is coated in shards of glass from the blown in windows, racks and their colorful contents scattered everywhere, exposed wiring sparking here and there with a hiss.  By all accounts, it’s a shitshow.

 

But they are both alive, they are okay, this is okay. 

 

Jonas would be here, even if it was the leader of The Devil’s Teeth himself instead of a handful of lackeys.  If it meant he could save the handful of people in the store, most of all, Sidney, he’d be here. 

Sidney shakes a little under his touch, but she pulls away smiling, rubbing her eyes.

 

“You… you just  _ saved _ a store full of people Jo… You just saved  _ me. _ ”  She squeezes his hands, sitting on her legs.  “Thank you.”  She lunges forward, squeezing him tightly again, and Jonas huffs a laugh, feeling tension disappear with every word, squeezing her back.  “What was I going to do?  Let you take the trash out by yourself?  Like back when we were in school.”  That makes her laugh, and Jonas feels better too, pulling her up off the floor, finding his legs shaky, but strong.

 

“Hey, these ain’t the bullies I used to get off your back in school, Jo!”  She leans heavily on Jonas and slings an arm around Jonas’ shoulder, leaving the store behind.  “Holy shit, did  _ you _ do that to the car?!  I could hear it all from inside the store when the windows blew in and then the metal crunching and gunshot, that was all you?”  

 

She raises a disbelieving eyebrow at Jonas, “This the same Jonas that fought for months against the idea of doing stuff like  _ this?” _ Jonas avoids her eye, “Come on, Sid.  Let’s get you home.  I’m tired, you’re tired, and we need to get off this street.”  Sidney gives in easily, and with one look Jonas can see the stress in her face, her slackened posture, she’s exhausted, but still strung high, her eyes flicking around the street, nervous.  Jonas wonders what he looks like.

 

It dawns on Jonas that wearing masks makes even more sense now.  They are not only useful for hiding your identity, but also for hiding your fear from your enemies.  Maybe that big scary gang leader gets scared too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch is curious as to who this new contender is, and whether or not this "Glow Bug" will be an enemy or ally. He's not sure which he'd like more. Jonas, on the other hand, struggles with his anxieties about taking the leap from one-off hero to a fledgling vigilante. He'll be facing a terrifying gang leader that can throw cars... is this all a mistake?

Well, _this_ is interesting.

 

Mitch cracks his knuckles, “That it?” Rolling the question off his tongue thoughtfully, his bruised and bloodied subordinate nods, looking pained.  It’s not surprising considering his face looks like it picked a fight with a cheese grater.  He feels kinda bad for the guy, almost.  “Get out.  Go to the doc.  You look like shit.”  Blunt as always, Mitch looks down at his hands.  His long fingers toy with a pocket knife.  There is a shuffle of feet and the soft sound of the door clicking open and shut, trying to pass unnoticed, smart kid.

 

Slowly, Mitch relaxes his fingers loosely around the aged blade, turning them palms up, staring thoughtfully like his palms have the answers.  The way Mitch has lived his life, it was his knuckles that have always held the answers.  

 

There’s another one like him.  Another one with freaky powers in the same _city_.  What are the odds?

 

Mitch huffs out a laugh, smiling, leaning all his weight on the desk behind him, shifting his gaze to the ceiling, arms straight, holding him up.  

  


A boy of lights, cutting a car _in half_ and roughing up his guys without even getting close to them.  How _dangerous_.  Mitch itches for a cigarette, lazily submitting to the vice. While Mitch lights up, his smile widens awkwardly around the smoke, unable to maintain his composure. Shit, next he’ll be giggling like a schoolgirl.

 

Clearly, this is a reaction to his gang   Maybe the kid’s pissed; collateral damage perhaps? Maybe he’s recruiting the same way Mitch did all those months ago.  Maybe he’s got a bone to pick with the big bad guy behind The Devil’s Teeth, just for the hell of it.  This could go so many different ways it’s just... _tan-tel-izing._  Or whatever the hell that word is.  

 

Really, he’s setting a bad example as a leader: everybody else is pissed, but Mitch can’t find it in him to even be annoyed, in fact, he’s absolutely giddy!  Excitement is rolling against his stomach in a way Mitch doesn’t think he’ll admit to anybody.  It’s never happened like this before.

 

Mitch can’t believe himself, excited about a contender putting three of his guys in the slammer, daring to step up during a night of TDT Terror.  What a ballsy fucker.

 

Mitch likes him more and more by the minute.

* * *

It takes a few days for Jonas to stop feeling like his front door is going to be kicked in by guys waving guns at any minute. and the gig will be up, and everyone will know about him.  Every passerby, honk, and car engine sets off his fight-or-flight response.  This is a city, so there is no rest from the anxiety.  

 

He knows Sidney feels it too, worse even.  He knows she has trouble sleeping, she practically moves into  Jonas’ place.  Trouble bringing them closer together.  She keeps saying so: “We can get through anything  Jo, it’ll get better.” She smiles at him but her eyes are tired, so are his, it’s reminiscent of how he looked when he was in high school.  Always red under his eyes from crying, with it, too much old pain comes back through stress.  

 

It sucks.  They both have nothing else to say about it.  

 

Google says it’s a symptom of short and long-term PTSD.  A scary acronym and Jo hopes to whatever holds the sky up that this will be very temporary.  He’ll make it temporary.  Trauma isn’t new to him as a life of gradual pain is familiar, the fast, intensity is different.

 

It will get better, he’s grown.  He knows it will get better, he doesn’t hold back the tears but he doesn’t let that awful feeling consume him for long.  They are stronger together, just as they are as individuals.  Leaning against each other, they make it through, and soon they talk more and more, it becomes easier and easier.  

 

The terror of the hold up fading some, and the excitement is crawling back up their backs, bringing hopeful ideas.

 

Sidney mentions offhandedly that she definitely wouldn’t be opposed to maybe, possibly, _conceivably_ helping Jonas pull off that whole, you know, _very dangerous vigilante thing._  

 

Jonas waves her off stiffly and Sidney lets the suggestion drop like a stone between them as she pleasantly eats her cereal, knowing well it didn’t take too much for the idea to hook into her brother whether he liked it or not.

 

Jonas is brushing his teeth when he thinks, _“What if I can do it again?  Protect people around town and-”_

 

He stomps on the breaks, derailing that train of thought with a hard shake of his head, squeezing his eyes shut, _NO._

 

That’s stupid.  It was out of necessity that Jonas donned the crappy disguise and rushed in the save the day.  A one-time deal.  A miracle.  He’s a one-trick pony, Jonas depressingly reassures himself.  No big deal.  This is safer.

 

_… But what if he could._  His heart flutters with a pang and he feels… stronger.

 

_Dammit._

* * *

“What do you mean nobodies’ fucking seen him?”  Mitch snaps, digging a knife a little deeper into his desk with agitation, legs jumping with energy.  Two months since the light boy showed up and now he’s disappeared like he was never really there.  Not giving Mitch anything else to latch onto, nothing interesting, and it’s _frustrating._

 

He’s offended like he was stood up for a date.   _Who does this guy think he is?_  Fucking with his men!! Showing off all that power and then pretending it never happened, no more!  There is no way it’s over just like that.  People with that kind of power have no business just STOPPING; the guy picked a fight, he damn well better come back to _finish it_.

 

Lost in thought, Mitch ends up chipping a large slice off his desk with the knife, damn, this is not the first time either.  The thing looks like a very large, pissed off cat had a go at it.  Maybe like one of those lions he saw at the zoo once.  Back to reality, he glares at the bearer of bad news, a long time companion, Javier.

 

Unfazed, and physically capable of going toe-to-toe with Mitch, and stands a pretty good chance of winning on a good day, is Javier in the doorway to his office.  His good nature and their fondness of each other cemented a friendship that would probably last far into the future, this ‘altercation’ would hardly threaten their rough-and-tumble relationship.  “I meant exactly what I said, ya’ ass.  No one’s seen him since he showed up and fucked up that convenience store on Seal Street.  Nothing.   _Nada_.  He’d be pretty hard to miss don’t you think?”  Javier crosses his arms and leans more heavily against the doorway.

 

Mitch squints at the ceiling and grunts.

 

There are a few beats of silence before Javier gets impatient, but amused, quirking an eyebrow at Mitch, “What are you waiting for?  Me to tell you what to do about this?”  This gets Mitch to look, frowning at his smiling friend.

 

“The fuck that’s supposed to mean?  I don’t need you to tell me SHIT.”  The bark is expected, and Javier grins, amusement floating through his posture.  He leans even more heavily against the creaky wood to illustrate how little he cared about Mitch’s thinly veiled threats.

 

“Well, then start barking orders, _boss_ , there ain’t no protocol for dealing with somebody like you.”  He laughs, shrugging with the admission that he really has no clue how to proceed, “This is how we got the upper hand in the first place, shit, who’d’ve known there'd be another fucker like you out there.  It’s on you, Mitch.”

 

“Yeah… I know.  Get the other two in here, we gotta spread the word around.”  Mitch walks around the front of his desk and perches on the edge.  Yeah, another fucker like him in the same city.  Mitch grins at Javier who stops at the door, cautious of that look, “... and what’s the word, Mueller?”

 

Lounging back on the desk, bringing up a foot to rest up on the edge, Mitch laughs like he’s amused with his own inside joke and leers at his friend, “The word’s that we’re hitting the town, and this Glow Bug is off-fucking-limits.  Every bullet fired in his direction is a bullet in their head from yours truly.  He’s _mine._ ”

 

Mitch’s absolutely giddy watching the confusion on Javier’s face as he lingers by the door, “What the fuck?  Have you finally lost your mind?  What’s so special about this punk?”  Mitch offers no response, grinning bigger, half of his face just crude, devious teeth, Javier shakes his head as he shuts the door behind him, muttering “crazy bastard…”

 

A giggle starts to erupt in Mitch’s belly, quietly fluttering up with excitement, imagining what this is going to be like.  How this is gonna be: will he be able to woe this newcomer to his side, or will he have his first ever competent nemesis?  How did this punk even get his powers?  Is he from Sellwood?  There are too many possibilities, it’s too much to wrap his head around.  

 

He’s absolutely tickled, and almost nervous.  It’s like he’s going on a date with this Lights Guy or something!  It’s so… middle school.  An old memory fleets through his chest, of a nice boy he met when he was 13, a boy with freckles, before Mitch left that small town.

 

No.   

 

This isn’t the same.  He pushes it away, before it can dampen his mood.  He left that boy behind a long time ago.  Ancient history.

 

For a brief moment he wonders if he still lives in Sellwood, and what he’s doing now.

 

He needs a smoke.

* * *

 

Despite trying to eat on a regular basis, eating three meals a day, with healthy contents, he’s not quite willing to consider the dreaded concept of _running_ and _exercise._ Despite this hesitance, Jonas thinks he’s done a good job so far.  

 

If only the damn _news_ would stop making him lose his appetite.  

 

Just like the first time he laid eyes on the leader of The Devil’s Teeth, he’s eating cereal, watching the local broadcast channel.  For the second time, TDT makes him drop everything and just stare.  Caught between shock and horror his spoon splashes into his bowl, splattering milk all over the table and his shirt.

 

They’re calling Jonas out.  Graffiti everywhere, and two months to the day of the raids they pop up overnight.  There is no ignoring their message, varying its phrasing all over town, it all means the same thing.

 

_“COME OUT AND PLAY LIGHTS.”_

 

“WE’RE WATCHING YOU GLOWBUG.”

 

“WHERE DID YOU GO LIGHTS?”

 

“THE DEVIL WANTS TO MEET YOU.”

 

They’ve tagged the entire neighborhood around the convenience store.  His gut sinks and he can feel every morsel of cereal in his belly threaten to make a reappearance in his bowl.  Oh this is perfect.  Peachy.  They’re out looking for him now!!!

 

“SIDNEY!  You watching the news?!”  Jonas shouts over his shoulder, wincing at how strained his voice comes out.  

 

From the bathroom, makeup half done, Sidney appears in the hallway, “What is it?”  Her eyes flick from his appalled expression to the television and understanding dawns on her features immediately.

 

“Oh.”  She drawls, coming into the room, standing next to her brother, hand on his shoulder.

 

“Looks like they totally want you dead, Jo.”  She deadpans, patting his shoulder like this wasn’t a big deal.  Her reaction is ridiculously underwhelming.

 

Jonas looks at her in disbelief, “Yeah, Sid, I totally didn’t come to that conclusion by using my eyes and brain.  I definitely called you in here to explain that to me!”  His voice rising a bit, and his cheeks are hot; how is she not freaking out about this?!

 

Sidney snorts at him, “You’re acting like they wrote that on our _front door,_ Joey.  They don’t know who the hell you are, that’s why they tagged everywhere within a half-a-mile radius of that convenience store.  Breathe, it isn’t that bad.”  She smiles at him, the hand on his shoulder turning into an arm around his neck, a headlock.

 

Jonas sputters for a moment, both confused by her ease and the apparent one-sided wrestling that was happening at this moment.  Why does she have so much energy in the morning?!

 

“Come on Jonas!  Gotta improve your skills before you start roughing up purse snatchers!”

 

Despite his anxious belly, Jonas is laughing, tugging his way out of the gentle hold to escape the impending noogie, turning the tables on his sister.  They roughhouse goodnaturedly, getting their morning started the right way even in the wake of the news.

* * *

Jonas had no idea body armour came in so many different types, using terminology he is woefully ignorant to, and the embarrassment and nerves sit in his throat.

 

“What do you think, Jonas?”  Sidney quibs from his left, always somehow more at ease than Jonas can manage in most situations.

 

Sheepishly, Jonas smiles at his sister, she looks maybe a few degrees more prepared than him, which is reassuring.

 

But not much.  Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.

 

“Uh, well.  I did a little research…”  Jonas eyes the walls of body protection gear uncertainly.  There aren’t a lot of visible differences to the untrained eye, this is gonna be harder than Jonas thought.

 

“Can I help you guys?”  A cheerful voice booms from a surprisingly close proximity to the twins.  Sidney snaps her head towards the voice, while Jonas jumps and whips around like he’s been threatened, earning a throaty laugh from the man he now sees leaning behind the counter.  

 

Must have slipped in from the door that looks like it’s not meant to be seen, he’s surprisingly quiet for such an imposing man, Jonas thinks.

 

“Yeah!”  Sidney responds cheerfully, stepping towards the counter, leaving Jonas where he stands.  “We’re looking for a vest, just starting a security job.”  Ah, yes, thank you Sidney!  Saving the day, employing the fake story they’d conceived to keep any paranoid or interested parties from suspecting anything… different.

 

“Well, what kinda protection we looking for?  Got a full selection here.  Level IIa through IV, stab, spike, and ballistic protection all the way to .30 armor piercing.  What kinda danger you looking to get into?  Broken bottles, knives, shanks, or pistols?  Machine guns?” the man laughs, grinning at them both, “you guys don’t look like you’d be getting into that kind of trouble though.”

 

Jonas clears his throat.  Moving forward with slight hesitation, stepping next to Sidney, “I don’t want to get into the details, contract and all that, but, uh, the most I can say is that she-” Jonas sticks his thumb towards his sister, “is going to need a ballistics vest, so, no need for stab or spike protection.”  It’s rehearsed, a little shaky, but the man behind the counter only gives him a brief, curious look for a few seconds before shrugging.

 

“Alright, buddy.  I’ll show you what we got.”  He turns to walk around the other side of the counter, in the brief moment alone, Sidney turns to him and beams, gently punching his shoulder with pride.

 

He feels better about it, shifting the hat he’s wearing, slightly less anxious than before.  He feels uncomfortable in the clothes he’s wearing.

 

It’s a disguise.  Kinda.  Sidney covered up his freckles with foundation, and covered her own, it took some time to do it properly, and they both are wearing hats hung a little low.  Jonas is wearing baggy clothes, baggier than what he normally wears, and Sidney is wearing his clothes as well.   She’s also wearing her makeup differently, and holding herself differently: with an air of purpose that Jonas finds strange given her usual casual nature.  

 

She’s also having _way_ too much fun with it; every time the large man turns his back to them, Sidney makes a face and Jonas struggles to not show his amusement once the man turns back around.  This is serious!  What if she gets caught?! Every time she does it his anxiety jumps up his spine in a small panic.

 

To distract himself, Jonas listens to the store clerk with interest but has a hard time giving him his full attention.  This place feels strange, and it isn’t the cleanest place in the world and it’s far from their neighborhood, and much deeper into TDT territory.  His hands are fists in his pockets.  Trying to hold in a rising feeling.  His mind is getting away from him, he stares harder at the man.  Using him as a distraction from the bad feelings rising up, what if this man is with _them?_  What if this is all a huge mistake?

 

_Focus harder._

 

His name is Javier.

 

The man is tall and heavyset.  His bone structure has everything to do with it, the man gives off a casual calm and the way he carries himself is easy.  The more he talks, the more comfortable Jonas feels being in his presence, he smiles a lot, too.  But Jonas does not trust him.  

 

He may be easy-going but this man also has a dangerous air to him, not threatening, but… resting.  He’s extremely capable of causing a lot of pain, but he won’t.  Afterall he’s working, everybody has a customer service mask.

 

He scratches his beard when he’s considering what feedback Jonas and Sidney give.   He honestly is looking for the best fit.  Oh! He’s talking directly to Jonas now.  Talk dammit!! Stop staring!!

 

“Uh, what?  Sorry, I was thinking about... which weight was best.  Can you say that again?”

 

Javier rolls with it, “Yeah I get it, some of these are close to sixty pounds!  I asked if it would be alright if you gave me a minute, I think I got something you guys’ll like in the back.  It’s a little older but it’s in your price range.”

 

“... Thank you, go ahead we’ll wait right here.”  Sidney smiles, that was… nice.  Really nice.  Jonas relents, chastising himself for relying so heavily on his preconceptions.  People he normally would avoid can be nice, even good people.  Not everyone has to be perfectly good people on the straight and narrow.  The world isn’t black and white, right?  

 

He peeks at Sidney, seeing her move around in his peripheral.  She’s picked up one of those bandana-looking facemask and has slid it on.   Oh great, it’s a clown face, Jonas makes a face at her.  

She smiles with her eyes, giggling as she approaches him like she’s going to tackle him, squatting low like a cat on the hunt. “Oh, come on!  Take that off!”  Jonas backs around a rack of holsters, grinning as he whisper-shouts at her.

 

She laughs, lunging at him, “Oh, _you_ come on.” she whisper-shouts back, teasing him, “Like you’re scared of clowns!”

 

He shoves her back, gently,  just in time for Javier to pop back into the store from the back room.

 

They both look at him, and the second he has a look at Sidney his booming laugh fills the entire store, again, “wearing my favorite mask I see, good choice!”  He praises, before extending the vest to her,  “This vest is level III ballista, kevlar like most in this shop but it’s a little bulky, try it on!”

 

Sidney tries it on, moving this way and that to see how it moves and feels, testing its limits and whether or not it’s ideal for… the kind of work Jonas is doing now.

 

Sidney finishes her awkward stretching and gives two thumbs up, one for Javier, and one for Jonas.

 

“It’s not too heavy, and fits fine, you can move pretty freely, it’s bulky but that isn’t an issue.  I think we got ourselves a match!”

 

Javier beams, “If that’s the case, the price for that vest is $230.”  He moves to the register, and Jonas moves with him as Sidney starts taking off the vest and the clown mask.

 

Jonas feels a spike of anxiety as his eyes lift to look Javier in the eyes, this is the closest he’s been to the man since he entered the body armor store.  The reality is hitting him like a punch in the chest, this is real.  

 

He is standing in a shady body armor shop, deep in TDT’s home turf, buying a _bulletproof vest_ so he can wear it and possibly get _shot_ while going out of his way to _fight a gang_ with his _superpowers._

 

The sharp stab of awareness makes him pale under the layer of makeup, and he feels frozen but his arm keeps moving, pulling out and counting the right amount of cash and handing it numbly to Javier.  His face feels slack, there is a prick at the corner of his eyes and his chest squeezes.  This is overwhelming.

 

Javier looks at him in a way that makes Jonas nervous in between working the register, Jonas doesn’t change his expression, couldn’t if he tried.  It’s over.  He knows something is up.  The prick in the corner of his eyes gets painful, tongue thick and clogging his throat, the world shrinks down and the next step hinges entirely on Javier’s reaction.

 

He doesn’t react.  He just bags the vest and smiles at them both, “Well, good luck.”  He says, with more customer service cheer, “Have a good day, guys.”

 

Jonas nods at him, taking the bag weakly, and Sidney smiles back, waving, “You too, man!”  

 

They exit the shop, Sidney peers over at her brother with a bit of concern, but doesn’t push until they clear the neighborhood several minutes later.

 

“...So, how-” Sidney has only just opened her mouth but initiating conversation apparently clipped the last shred of Jonas’ cool, and all the thoughts spill from him as the dam breaks in real time.

 

His arms fly out, and his face turns red, “DID YOU SEE THAT?”

 

Sidney gasps, swerving away from his flying hands, “See what?” she turns, walking backwards to look at him and keep an eye on his swinging limbs.

 

“SEE EVERYTHING!!”  He reigns in his volume, catching a look at the stares of a handful of gawking bystanders, his volume getting lower and his face getting redder.

 

He leans forward while walking, whisper-shouting and gesturing a bit less wildly, “What _we’re_ doing!  Superpowers!  Bulletproof vests!  Gang members!  This is crazy!  Why are we doing this?”  He flounders slightly, shoulders slumping and deflating his entire body and voice, looking at his sister ruefully.

 

“It all just, just _hit_ me.  When I walked up to that guy and paid, I looked at him and… I… what are we doing?”  It comes out like a sigh, Sidney reacts by sweeping to his side and slinging a warm arm around his shoulders.  Squeezing life back into him, pressed against his side.  

 

“You know what we’re doing, Jonas.  You just don’t think you can do it.” Sidney lays it out so plainly, and so casually that Jonas groans, she gets it, but she doesn’t get it at the same time.

 

“That’s an understatement.  I could get hurt, you could get hurt.  We both can get hurt, other people could get hurt because of us.  What if I make a mistake and people die?  Bad or good, it doesn’t matter.  I just can’t… that can’t happen.  What if this is all a big mistake and we’ll never come back from it?  What if we don’t walk away from it at all?”  Jonas’ tone goes flat, this is too much, too much danger, too much can go wrong and what if he causes more problems than he fixes?  He’s spent more nights awake pondering these questions than he’ll ever tell his sister.

 

Sidney watches Jonas self-destructing.  The anxiety and overthinking her poor little brother is subjecting himself to play out on his face, and she frowns for a moment before slapping Jonas, a little hard, on the back, shocking him out of his train of thought.

 

“Yo, I know what you need.  Let’s hit that brunch place on the way home, the new one.  I’m thinking waffles with ice cream, that cereal just ain’t doing it for me right now.  My treat.”  She grins, now pulling him in the direction of the restaurant, determined to distract her brother, she’llbe damned if she lets him implode.

* * *

 Jonas is appeased.   For now.  

 

Jonas stabs the last of the ice cream and chocolate covered waffle with his fork, dragging it through the melted cream and syrup.  Across from him, Sidney sips a salted caramel milkshake while looking at her phone, it’s almost like they don’t have a bulletproof vest sitting casually in a bag under the table between their feet.

 

“So, you done freaking out?” Sidney glances at him over her milkshake, smiling easily, and it cracks even wider when Jonas scoffs, pulling a face.

 

“Sid, not even close.”  Jonas stabs another piece of waffle, slashing it through a pool of syrup and whip cream, looking back up at her, but really, most of the tension is gone.  The anxious energy had been mostly spent in the street, and this is nice; eating dessert in the middle of the day with his sister helped.  Everything is alright.

 

“Thanks for this extremely unhealthy lunch.”  There goes that healthy-eating thing he was working on.

 

They both laugh, and for a few minutes, Jonas can enjoy his “lunch” in blissful oblivion.

 

But only for a few minutes, as Sidney is not willing to let Jonas completely ignore what it is they are setting into motion.  She flashes her phone screen to Jonas, “Since we’re doing this intentionally now, this is probably how you should start going out on patrol.”

 

On her screen is a man wearing a partial face mask, sunglasses, a hoodie, and specialized work gloves.  “This is just what I could find on Google, but like, you also gotta wear like, I don’t know, elbow and knee pads or something.  Steel-toed shoes, non-slip.  That kind of thing.  Not like you need to look like Superman and wear the tights.”  She finishes with a giggle, but Jonas only cracks a smile.

 

She’s been thinking about this, probably longer than the last few weeks. “What do you have like an entire board on Pinterest dedicated to this?”  Jonas gives her a knowing look, and she answers his accusation with a devious grin, “I got to look out for my little brother don’t I?”

 

Jonas rolls his eyes, pushing away his empty plate and clicking it will her also empty cup in slight exasperation.  “So we’re stopping at Dick’s Sporting Goods on the way home it seems.  Going to blow my entire paycheck!  My internship doesn’t pay as much as yours, Sid!”  He nags jokingly and Sidney rolls her eyes right back and grins, “Hey, I’m spending money too, I’ve got your back remember?”  Jonas frowns, he doesn’t know how he feels about that, well, obviously anxious, but Sidney can take care of herself.  If she had powers, she’d be unstoppable, but she doesn’t, and these guys have guns, and even with powers, that’s scary.

 

What if she gets caught in the wrong place at the wrong time?   _Again?_ Will fate look happily down upon her again?  Will he be there to save her?  Jonas can feel the world shrinking, the bustle around them becoming too loud all at once as people laugh, and chairs drag loudly on the floor, too many voices all at once, there are no answers.  There is no way to know if this is all wrong, if he should just put away all this and act as usual.  God all this has his anxiety on a hairpin trigger, he can’t take it.

 

Someone is talking, faintly then all at once the voice has his attention, “--get you two anything else, or just the check?”  Sidney clears her throat, placing her glass on Jonas’ empty plate, “can I get another milkshake to go, and then the check?  Thanks, Millie.”  Sidney sounds unusually fond, what did he miss, he feels he missed something, in his moment of confusion he observes his sister and ‘Millie’ smiling at each other differently than Jonas would smile at a waitress he doesn’t know.  Then she unnecessarily, but helpfully passing the discarded plates and silverware to Millie.  How nice, he thinks, and he smiles at the sudden flash of understanding.  

 

She’s flirting.  

 

How sweet!

 

Anxiety mellowed somewhat by amused affection for his sister who is _totally_ hitting on their waitress.  The interaction is over quickly, and Jonas eases into playful amusement.  With one look at Jonas’ face, Sidney’s cheeks flush with color and the redder she gets, the bigger his smile gets, “What was _that_ , Sid?  A five-minute crush? _You?_ ”  He’s grinning at her, and Sidney gets her wits back, embarrassment passing into confidence, “Oh, at least I ask people out, you dork.  I can flirt if I wanna, and I can get her number too!  If I don’t, you get my milkshake.”

 

He’s not competitive, not by a longshot, and he’s definitely full, but a victory milkshake sounds good about now.

* * *

Sidney got her number.

 

Jonas can’t bring himself to be bummed, it was cute to watch, he’s only a little jealous.

 

Not jealous.  More like self-conscious.  Sidney puts herself out there with ease Jonas has a hard time imagining he could ever muster.  He fights the drop in his mood yet again, the sinking pull of sadness in his chest, he’s tired of being pulling this way and that today in a whirlwind of emotions he might just sleep the rest of the day.  

 

The pull gets worse.  Of course, it does.  

 

It’s time to sleep.

* * *

It gets better.  Breathe Jonas.  It gets better.  He knows this, but the crushing feeling in his chest makes him forget.  It makes him forget that he can feel light and free and excited like he is right now.  That awful pull wants to drown him, and some days it’s next to impossible to stop, but Joey is working harder than he ever has before.  There is no time to crumble when people need your help.   When you can make a few people feel a bit safer, it smothers that depressing pull to muted embers, only temporarily, but Jonas will take it.  

* * *

 “Practice until you can’t hear the doubt anymore!” Sidney shouts, dragging Jonas from his lumpy form on the bed to his more human form on the floor.  “Jonas, you’re nuts if you think you’re going to be _Superman_ in two days.  We’ve both read the comics, and it takes a lot of hard work before Clark started to come into his own.  No one’s born ready to fight crime.”

 

“Does this have to include doing this many squats this early in the morning?”  Jonas groaned, face red, this is the end of their exercise.  Not being entirely heartless, his sister has taken to doing the sets with him.  However much misery loves company, Jonas doesn’t think it makes the running any easier.  Once they are done, No one can make fun of them for starfishing on the cold tile floor of his kitchen, jugging orange juice and eating granola bars.

 

“I don’t think I can keep this up.” His sister groans beside him, facedown, with a wet paper towel laying over her entire head.  Jonas snorts.

 

“This was _your_ idea that we ‘get into shape’ for this.”

 

“Well, I mean… It’s a good idea.  To be able to decently run and fight some bad guys.  Never know…. But I don’t think I want to ever engage in that much movement again.”

 

Jonas, with effort, sits up, and drops his cold water bottle on the small of her back, struggling to stands, laughing as she screams and twists around like she’s been burned, “What was that for, Joey?!”

 

He raises an eyebrow at her, “For making me run.  I call the shower first… or maybe the tub.  I don’t think I can stand that long right now.”

 

She kicks his calf as he passes her, they laugh at each other, sweating bodies melting to the floor.  What a mess they are.  What a mess this all is.  Jonas grins tiredly, into the stream of water, planning what comes next.

* * *

 

The chunk of rubble crumbles like a cookie in a toddler’s hand.  Mitch shouts his anger and throws the powdery remains in a wide arch.  Cliff coughs, tapping his hat clean, ignoring the settling dust on his shoulders.

 

“So what the kid ain’t shown?  Coward’s a do that, boss.”  He shrugs, dismissing Mitch’s anger.  Like a whip, Mitch’s anger flushes, shaking out of him as he shouts, approaching Cliff dangerously, “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WANT TO HEAR YOUR DUMB FUCKING MOUTH HICK?”

 

Bitten back, Cliff retreats behind the chair in front of Mitch’s desk, stumbling to put something between him, and a very upset Mitch, “I-I-uh… meant nothin’ by it, Mitch.  It just there’re smellier pigs to fry ya’ know?  The boys were wonderin’ is all, yeah, the boys… they’re wonderin’ what we gonna do about em if all we’re doing is lookin’ for that glow kid?”

 

Mitch kicks chair with enough force to send it ricocheting off of Cliff’s shins, and back towards Mitch, deflecting off of his outstretched leg, into the wall.  The failed maneuver did not leave either unharmed but wounded Cliff the most.  Mitch stumbles, grunting, as Cliff falls ass first on the ground, clutching his shins, face twisted uglier than Mitch thought possible.  Lucky for them both, the uncoordinated mess of an altercation was confined to the office.  No witnesses. Mitch feels indignant, an angry flush creeping up the back of his neck.

 

“Fuck you, Cliff!  Don’t fuckin’ estimate me.  I got my reasons, he’s, he’s important.  Part of the plan.  We’ll get to the fucking pigs when I say so.”

 

Cliff flails to his feet, using the doorknob to pull himself up, scooping his stupid hat off the floor, sputtering, sputtering apologies.

 

“I, uh, got it boss.  I’ll let ‘em know, the boys, uh…” Cliff neglects the rest of his sentence in favor of fleeing the room like a bat out of hell.

* * *

 This is a disaster, Mitch grunts, kicking the poor chair yet again.  This time it’s more satisfying.  

 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t change that two months have passed since they tagged the neighborhood, and there’s still no sign of that glowy boy.  He’s captured Mitch’s attention and left him hanging.  Several minutes later, a rapid knock draws his attention from chipping more and more wood off of his desk.

 

“What?” Mitch snaps.  The door swings open and the doorknob bangs into the wall, and in strolls a small, grinning Scratch.

 

“Ay, Mit!  Heard you fucked up Cliff and I came to check on ya’.”  She spins around on her heels, surveying the damage to the wall and the chair still laying on the ground.  “I also came around ‘cause I got an idea!”

 

“And I should give a shit _why?_ ”  Mitch doesn’t have the patience to deal with her erratic nature right now.  But the way her grin twists and her eyes glitter in a way he knows means it must be truly devious.  Consider his interest piqued.

 

“Ya know, we haven’t fucked with the pigs in a little while, and I thought it might make ya happy to you know… Leave a dead pig on their front step and maybe break a few windows… ya catchin what I’m throwin?”  Scratch leans all the way forward, so far that she rests her elbows on the desk and has her chin on her palms, looking like she’s ready to blow with excitement.  “Not really a fan of killing a pig, but who knows!  Maybe this’ll finally draw your boyfriend outta hiding.”  Her face splits and she giggles more like a sped-up recording of a laugh than a real person and dances away from the desk, jumping over the chair.

 

She barely escapes his hands as Mitch moves to shove her completely over, “Get the fuck out of my office!” He shouts, and the desk shifts a few inches forward.

 

“So is that a yeeeeeeees~?”  She sings, not at all afraid of him the way she probably should be. Swinging the door closed so quick is slams.

 

“Shut up you idiot.”  He shouts at her through the door from his chair, but with less bite than before.  He might just take up her suggestion.  Contemplating his options, he has no plans for tonight.  Fucking with the pigs sounds great about now.  Almost as good as seeing his new favorite prey.  He can’t believe he’s giving Scratch credit, but she might be right, maybe it’ll bring _Him_ out once and for all.

 

Just to spite Scratch, Mitch waits over an hour before he calls them all back into his office, “Get ready.  We’re hitting the town.”  It's grins all around, Mitch can feel the energy shooting through him and can read it off his friends.  This is exactly what Mitch came to this city for.  

 

Time to fuck some shit up.

* * *

 Fire has a very special place in Mitch’s heart.  Especially when it’s lighting up the night, peeking out of the shattered front windows of the police station.

 

Heh.  This never gets old.

 

Javier laughs next to him, and Scratch slaps Cliff on the back, making him wince.  Their feet dangle off the edge of a rooftop and into the open air, masks pushed up or down around their necks so they can watch the city like a movie screen.  Like they all worked together on a stop-motion movie and were watching their work unfold.  But this isn’t some nerdy kid shit, those aren’t toy police cars and sirens racing miles away, but damn if the sight of the satellite police station wasn’t a pretty picture to Mitch.  He only wishes it were the _real_ police station burning.

 

“Burn bitches, burn.” Mitch hums through the cloud of smoke breathing out of him into the night.

 

“How many trucks ya think it’ll take to put it out?” Scratch leaning over her knees, dangerously over the edge, squinting to count the lights of emergency vehicles converging on the scene.  “Prolly like 10!” she snatches the blunt from Mitch’s fingers.

 

“Nah, we’ve burnt bigger ones” Javier laughs, holding his phone up to save the glory of their crimes on his phone, showing it to Cliff.  Mitch’s attention slips back to the lights, it never really occurred to him to ever try to preserve the present.

 

An erupting boom emanates from the station, overwhelming even from this far away, and a white burst blooms higher than any of the flames for a moment.  They all shudder in surprise, “Well fuck!  There goes something important!” Cliff barks through a laugh, and they all fall in.  

 

Mitch cracks a smile and cackles into the night.

* * *

  _What the fuck._  Jonas blinks.

 

Yup.  Definitely _still_ seeing what he’s seeing.

 

A full bottle of soda drops heavily on his foot but he can’t take in anything else other than the insane amount of light and smoke wafting up like a small sun just swallowed a section of the horizon over the buildings.  The streets are suddenly much busier than they were a few moments, or has it been minutes now that all these people have been gawking just like Jonas is?

 

“I can’t believe this.  This isn’t happening.”  He mutters to himself as if it’ll convince his legs to move faster, faster towards home.  There’s a swelling feeling in his gut that at the same time makes him feel very small and it throbs as Jonas rips open his front door, pounds up the stairs and oh _god_ he can’t believe he’s _actually doing this!_

* * *

 Running will never _not_ be hard but what really makes it hard for Jonas to breathe is the sudden gut-dropping terror of looking up and spotting on the building just across the street from him the masked masterminds Jonas has seen on the news for _months_.  Those false visages have hardly left the forefront of Jonas’ mind since the day they first appeared.  Every news site, blog, image, even _rumor_ has floated around his recent web history for what seems like forever now are clear even from this vantage point.

 

Almost as clear as day, the yellow, red, and blue lights flicker over every contour of that mask.  It isn’t green from here, but those black eye holes and vertical slits over the mouth are unmistakable.  Simple, easily faked, but there is no way it isn’t him.  If the mask weren’t enough, the way the leader of TDT imposed his power on Jonas, even from this distance was making him weak in the knees.

 

His size was clear and ridiculous.  Obviously a giant among men, among his allies even.  He stands and so does the other three.  Jarringly, Jonas snaps back into his surroundings, alarmed, but quickly remembers he’s ducked behind a mailbox that hopefully is enough to shield him from their view.

 

Jonas needs to move because they won’t linger long and there is no way in hell he’s going to start jumping rooftops on his first real night fighting a _real_ bad guy.   _The_ Bad Guy.  Unless he wants to lose his shot to do anything here, he needs to act now.  But do _what,_ exactly?  Something clearly beyond stupid.

 

He shouts, or maybe it’s a shriek, his ears are ringing anyway so who could tell, and for a moment they seem to falter and look down.  Down at Jonas, like vultures.  

 

He can’t focus on that, on anything other than the sensation of pulsating rays buzzing in the air, angry, and growing over ten feet over Jonas’ head.  The windows light up with more than just reds, blues, and yellows, ever complex hue fighting for dominance over the terror a few streets over.  Fighting for dominance over the hell these assholes caused.  

 

Jonas lights up the night on this street.

 

Anger is good, melting icy fear in his veins, even as Head Asshole moseys to the ledge to lean over the edge,  “HA!  LOOK WHO IT IS!  MY FAVORITE LITTLE GLOW BUG!”  He sounds manic, voice splitting with excitement so sharply Jonas fails to stop the flinch that wracks his frame.

 

Hunched and leaning so heavily over the side of the building, the notorious leader of The Devil’s Teeth resembles a bird of prey about to leap rather than a person, and before bile can jump its way up Jonas’ throat he shouts back over the noise and tries to project, “YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO PEOPLE!” wincing at the way his voice turns nearly shrill towards the end, “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

 

To his credit, Jonas doesn’t actually drop to his weak, quaking knees when the ugliest howl of a laugh rips from not only the leader but the whole pack, laughter dragging for several seconds before the leader leans even deeper over the edge, resting his arm on his bent knee, folded very nearly in half.

 

“That’s funny, Blinky, I think we both know you know _exactly_ who I am.”  With a flick of his wrist, he points a finger gun down at Jonas, and the every window in the car in front of him bursts and the roof of the car crumbles inward like gravity increased a hundredfold, the horrified yelp of the car alarm, as well as the flecks of shattered glass, force him to scurry away, blocking his view with his arms to save his face from an unfortunate meeting with rainbow shards pelting anything within fifteen feet.

 

It only takes a moment for the alarm to cut off sharply and the assault of glass to stop, and Jonas moves his arms to see that the car looks like someone took a giant cartoon anvil to it, crunched to nearly half its original height.

 

“They call me _The Devil_ for a reason, darlin’!”  The presence of the green mask does nothing to hide the obnoxious grin Jonas can hear in his voice.

 

What. A. Tool.

 

That’s someone’s car!!! A car someone is going to need to get to work!  Live their lives!  Who does this guy think he is!?  The collateral damage that follows this guy around _alone_ hurts so many innocent people!  Yeah, a real _devil_ this guy is, that’s for sure.

 

“Oh, _clearly, white boy!”_  Jonas squints up at the group ribbons scarlet with distaste.  A surprised guffaw comes from both the large clown and tiny squirrel-looking person clinging to him.  As they both visibly try to contain their amusement, their leader is uncharacteristically quiet.  

 

Anxiety swallows Jonas’ stomach, the very real repercussions of trash talking an actual _gang leader_ catches up with him all too quickly.  There goes Jonas’ mouth getting him into heat his ass can’t take.

 

Some sort of conversation transpires above as Jonas waits in limbo for some kind of reaction.  The masks reveal nothing, and at this distance, a normal conversation would be drowned out by the wind and sirens.  All at once, three out of four retreat from the building’s edge, out of Jonas’ view and alarm bells rattle his brain as he braces for what’s coming… here he comes.

 

A sickening crunch brings Jonas’ attention back to the mangled car, the exterior crumbles slightly, like it’s being taken into an invisible grip of some invisible giant hand, hovering six feet off the ground.

 

It’s a straight shot of adrenaline to his system, erratically warping his streams of light in a wide arch, and a devastating crunch and flying sparks are the first inkling to Jonas that he’s actually reacted, and the echoing bang-bang of two chunks of car crashing back down from their suspension are his second inklings.

 

Above him he hears cackling and a loud whistle, “Not gonna lie, you had me worried for a while that you were just afraid.  Show up once, beat up some of my guys and then you just shit your pants and hung low when I started looking for ya!”  He’s standing at his full height again, shouting down at Jonas, “A little night light.  Good to see you ain’t too chicken shit…”

 

Too chicken shit for what, exactly?  He doesn’t get the chance to elaborate because the sirens are getting louder, _quickly_ and both snap their attention down a ways to the intersection where a police car is bound to come swerving around any second.  

 

Jonas doesn’t look to see what the asshole on the roof does, he just runs.  Faster than anyone should ever have to run, around the corner and up two blocks to the alley Sidney has been parked for the duration of the encounter.

 

Wheezing, Jonas throws himself into the passenger seat and nearly slams the door on his ankle.

 

“WE NEED TO GO!” He shouts way too loud ripping down the lower face mask: the radio wasn’t even on, and he effectively drowns out Sidney’s frantic welcome and inquires.

 

“Okay! Okay! You good?!” She shouts back, a tad less loud, the car is already on and she shifts into drive.  Sidney has eyes on her brother as much she has eyes on the road as she turns out of the alley, slower than the pace Jonas’ pulse is absolutely screaming for.  Jonas squeezes the seat belt resting across his chest hard enough for the hard nylon to dig into his fingers, “YEAH!  Yeah!  The police were coming, and um, he threw a car at me!  And he called me a bunch of weird names?”  Jonas breathes deeper with every phrase, wits coming back to him gradually.

 

Sidney drives casually, not too fast or too slow, it must take a large amount of effort given how white her knuckles are on the steering wheel, she nods at him vigorously, “I heard it!  I wanted blast around the corner and save you but you didn’t signal so I… I didn’t… Shit, Joey...”  Her voice is thin with tension, she might not have been in the action but being so close, and being forced to stand back and trust her twin was going to be okay without her was no walk in the park.  Jonas stares at her, and she glances back at him, her eyes are wet, and she bites her lip to stop it from trembling “I… I wanna do this, but _wow_ that was hard.  I just… I’m not okay with running backup while you run in to kick ass.  I thought I would be, and I believe in you but _holy shit_ Joey.  Not being there next to you was… hard.”  Her voice cracks at the end.  

 

She’s stopped looking at him, the sirens have faded to the echo all cities have.  The sound of trouble that just isn’t close enough to affect you.  There, but just in the peripheral of your immediate world.  Silence hangs between them, and Jonas’ heart thumps in his ears as he struggles to buffer through muddled thoughts.  It’s like trudging through mud.  With effort, Jonas speaks up before the silence stretches too far, “I…”  his heart squeezes and he swallows hard, “I know, Sidney.  Thank you so much.”  he leans against the center console, head resting on her shoulder,  “There is no way I could do this without you.  There is no one else I’d want having my back, you being here made all the difference.  You…. you make me feel stronger when you have my back.”  

 

Jonas can feel her hiccup a small sob, and then a short laugh, leaning her head against the top of his head, “Where else would I be?” she’s so sure, and it doesn’t surprise Jonas at all.  The fear can’t stop the warm feeling of grateful love flushing through him, and he feels calmer.  

 

They both lapse into silence, but the buzz in Jonas’ brain persists.

 

Images flit over the insides of his eyelids when he blinks.  The masks, the lights, the glittering glass raining like snow.  The sound of laughter, pointed, explosive.  Jonas reaches across the console with his right hand and grabs Sidney’s forearm, squeezing gently, but firmly, there is no need to talk.  They are both here, in this moment, and that’s enough.  

 

Here will work.

* * *

 “FUCK THE POLICE!” three bottles of varying levels of content burst like balloons, he crunches the glass beneath his shoes, he’s roaring mad.

 

“Yeah, that… the fuck you freaking out so hard for?  You got to see that guy.” Javier looks up from his phone, not at all perturbed by his friend’s violent behavior, he’s cleaned his face of sweat and makeup only to reapply the paint.  It’s now early morning, they haven’t slept yet.

 

Leaning forward and hunched a few feet away sits Cliff, “Why didn’t you just squish ‘em like a bug?  He was slow as shit. Tubby.” Cliff mutters the last part, earning a glare from Mitch.

 

“They fucked it up!  I didn’t want it to end yet but those fucking cops haaaad to roll in, screwing things up as usual.  Fucking dirty pigs always fucking shit up.” Mitch can feel veins bulge in his temples from agitation.  He gives Cliff a scathing look, if he opens his mouth again, the rolling anger in Mitch won’t hesitate to unload on the poor fucker.

 

Cliff promptly snaps his weirdly large jaw shut, heh, it’s like his mouth takes up more room than his brain does. “It ain’t about seein’ him!!! I wanna _recruit_ the fucker don’t you get it?”  Mitch groans, throwing himself down into the only empty chair in the circle, crossing his arms like the grump he is.

 

Javier puts his phone down entirely, looking at Mitch incredulously, “What?  That’s not what _you_ told us when we started looking for this guy!” Javier purses his lips, giving Mitch a hard look, which Mitch returns with annoyance, “the fuck this really about?  First, it was you wanted to fight the guy, now you wanna recruit ‘em, next you’re gonna make him your second in command.”

 

The suspiciously quiet Scratch looks up at Mitch from her awkward position with her legs over the back of the chair and her back resting on the seat, hanging off the chair in a position that MUST be uncomfortable, “Yeah, Mit!  What ya hiding?!  Next, it’s gonna be you got a crush on this stranger or somethin’!” She grins.

 

Mitch’s eye twitches and he breathes deeply, lighting up a blunt, “All of you fuck right off a bridge.” He grumbles, pulling deep, letting the smoke fill his lungs before passing to his right.  While Cliff to his right pulls, Mitch lets the smoke out of his nose, enjoying the tingle.

 

Across from him, Scratch giggles and looks up to Javier, on Mitch’s other side, “Notice how he doesn’t deny he has a crush on Glow Boy?”  Javier smiles, avoiding Mitch’s eye and clears his throat to hide the deep chuckle from Mitch.  He doesn’t hide it that well, but Mitch only dignifies their mockery with narrowed eyes and a low, “Fuckers.”  Across from him, Scratch erupts into laughter, joined by Cliff as he passes to her.  Mitch scowls but softens by the time the blunt makes its way back to him.  Whatever.  Fuck em all, who cares what they think about it, all he’s focused on is getting to know this tiny lightning bug.  Maybe he’s useful.  Maybe he’s cute.

 

Mitch puffs out smoke, damn, is he too high already?

* * *

 “Faster, Sid!”  Twenty feet away, Sidney tosses another baseball in the air and strikes it, full force, with her bat, and it whips right at Jonas.  More specifically right at his face, it takes barely a second or two to reach within striking distance, and Jonas deflects it with ease. Sid smiles, “I’m not a professional batter, JoJo.  I’m doing the best I can!”  They’re standing on their little beach, having more than a few times had to fish deflected and missed balls from the ocean.

 

“You can throw them too, I just wanna get used to deflecting things.”  Jonas digs his toes into the sand as if the anchor himself, staring his sister down with an intensity that is generally uncharacteristic of him, Sid cracks a lopsided smile, “You know, I think I’m doing pretty good for not playing softball in a few years!  What do you think Joey?” To punctuate, Sidney tosses up another ball, and swings her bat, sending it hurtling at Joey, who again, deflects it, but accidentally sends it right back the way it came, _at_ Sidney, who shrieks and dives out of the way, into the sand, avoiding the bruising baseball.  Jonas jumps, and rushes over, already spitting apologies:

 

“OhJeezI’mSoDumbIDidn’tMeanToDoThatOhGodAreYouOkay!?”

 

She’s shaking on the ground at Jonas’ feet, making no noise, and as he gets down on his knees, he realizes she’s _laughing_ .  In fact, she’s laughing so hard she’s not even making any noise, with sand in her hair and probably in her clothes, she’s actually _laughing_.

 

Finally she gasps in air and he can hear her laughter now, and he stares down at her confused before smiling, it’s infectious, and Jonas laughs too, “What are you even laughing at?!” he can’t believe her, and his sister rolls on her back and grins at him, “I’m laughing at you!” He raises his eyebrows at her, “Oh?  And what’s so funny about me?”  He puts his hands on his hips like an expectant mother waiting for an explanation.

 

“You’re funny because you’re always talking down about yourself but here you are!  Kicking your sister’s butt on accident!  You’re so oblivious!” She succumbed to a fit of giggles yet again, tears in her eyes.

 

For a second Jonas is at a loss of what to say, “W- … Well, I didn’t _mean_ to kick your butt!  It just kind of happened!” He feels a yellow glow wrap around him, and Sidney grabs his arm, “Lay down with me, dork!” He follows her instructions easily and listens to her giggles floating away, and he looks up at the sleepy sky.  The sun is on the horizon, a few stars peeking through the fading brightness of day.  

 

For a second he closes his eyes and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAND WE'RE BACK!!! After months... and months.... and months... I am so sorry guys, seriously I didn't mean to go on such an extreme hiatus but I am determined to make REGULAR updates from now on!!!
> 
> Apologies aside! I'd like to thank Mars real quick for her amazing comic and characters, as well as my beta reader for helping me get this out as quick as I could.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy, let me know what you think! :]


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All eyes are on Jonas as he stumbles further and further into a world he doesn't understand, causing him to hesitate, but the Devil won't be kept waiting. Maybe this was all just a huge mistake.

“Crazy, right?  I’m gonna play it again, but slower so you guys can see just how nuts this is.  It looks like Sacramento has its very own superhero-supervillain duo!”

 

The video loops again, slower this time.  It’s taken from an apartment window on what looks like the second floor, given the video’s angle to the street.  Each frame ticks by at quarter speed, and Jonas watches himself on camera.  He’s draped in waves of brilliant hues that reflect off windows and cars, and he’s  _ there, _ in the middle of it all.  You can only see Jonas’ back, rendered in a low resolution by a camera struggling to compensate for the lack of natural lighting, as well as the intense bursts of color rolling and swirling like seaweed in choppy waves.  No one could possibly recognize him from the video, but that doesn’t stop Jonas from feeling viscerally exposed.

 

“At first I thought it might just be crazy good editing, but this just can’t be fake!”

 

The video cuts back to the Youtuber,  “This was released within  _ two hours _ of the fire and the alleged showdown taking place.  Even with a team of editors there is no way such a high quality fake could be pushed out so quickly!  It looks like a goddamn Marvel movie, people.”

 

“This next part goes by quick, so I’ll keep it slow.  This is when you see the TDT ringleader on the roof.”

 

The video cuts back to the footage, and Jonas leans even closer to his computer screen, his nose barely an inch away from the screen as the camera swings up.  The motion drags slowly until he sees them, a group of figures, lit up by Jonas’ lights, but the camera continues to swing up into empty sky before coming back down to settle shakily on them.  Jonas hits pause just as the the picture comes into focus, it’s a way better angle than what Jonas had two nights ago.

 

He stares at the squad of criminals, taking in every detail as if just staring at their pictures will teach him how to defeat them.  They’re grouped together, leaning over the edge to peer down at Jonas and the direct exposure to Jonas’ light gives surprising clarity to those that typically hide in the dark.  Honestly, it’s the best quality image Jonas has seen of the TDT’s inner circle yet.

 

Decked in mostly dark apparel, the most obvious identifiers are their masks.  Never seen without them, the public gave them their very own aliases; there’s Bozo, with their clown mask, then Skulls, with their skeletal half-mask, and Hound, with their wolf bandana-style mask. 

 

And then there’s  _ him _ , the main event.  The Devil himself.  Dirty, green mask, black jacket, ripped jeans and boots.  It’s all so fresh in his memory he can hear an echo of the leader calling out to him,   “HA!  LOOK WHO IT IS!  MY FAVORITE LITTLE GLOW BUG!”

“You can’t hear anything really but just look at it!  The person that posted the video said that before they got a chance to start filming, the lights guy on the ground cut that car  _ in half! _  So those lights aren’t just for show.  Honestly I don’t know what to make of it… but this all seems straight out of the comics!”

 

Jonas can’t watch anymore.  He closes the tab, closes the browser, closes his laptop, closes his eyes and counts to ten.

 

He’s so fucked.

 

***

 

“Play that shit again!!!” Scratch hollers, and Cliff replays the video, his phone wirelessly connected to the big flat screen in the middle of the wall of Mitch’s apartment.  Scratch bumps his shoulder, swaying excitedly at his side with her legs under her on the couch, “You know, that little guy looked really cool!  So pretty!”  Javier chimes in from his position on the floor, arms crossed “Scratch, he cut that car  _ in half _ like it was nothing.  He’s pretty dangerous…” Out of the corner of Mitch’s eye, he can see Javier turn his head towards him slightly, expectantly.

 

Mitch, until this point, had been rather quiet: busy burning through a cigarette thoughtfully, eyes on The Boy.  He ignores Javier, leaning forward to crush the cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table, surrounded by half empty and crushed beer cans.  “There any other videos?” Mitch questions, as if he were asking about paperwork, and not the most interesting person he’s ever crossed. 

 

“Nah, this is it.” Cliff grunts from Mitch’s left, “Don’t we got bigger things to worry ‘bout than this flashy kid?”  Cliff shuts off the video, earning him a bark from Mitch.

 

“AY! Did I fucking say we were done, asshole?” The flash of anger shatters the visage of calm he had attempted to maintain.  Mitch scowls at the darkened screen, deeply annoyed that if his friends didn’t see through him before, they certainly do now.  Scratch and Javier snicker as Cliff caves, turning the video back on.  It’s the raw footage from the other night, stripped of audio, Mitch lets the streams of light flow out of the screen and bleed onto the walls of the dark room.

 

It’s calming, Mitch thinks through his buzz, lulled back into his thoughts.  He honestly doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so pretty in his life, and his eyes wander from the strokes of light to the boy in the center of it all, in the limelight, clear as day.  He’s all soft curves.

 

Pretty.

 

***

 

“What are we supposed to do about this?”  A young man stands in front of his brothers, gathered in this room to plan, listening to their worries, “It’s hard enough with  _ one _ super to deal with, and now there’s two of them.  How can they expect us to take on some freaks of nature?  That’s not what I signed up for.”  

 

There’s a murmur of agreement, and a uncertain shift in the air, but their leader doesn’t move an inch.  “If we’re lucky, we don’t have to do anything.  Nothing changes.”  The muttering grows, threatening to rise over his voice, and he snaps, “If you’re too chickenshit to be apart of this you know damn well it’s too late to back out now.  We’ve hit our first  _ real _ test, and I don’t know about you, but I’m here to fucking  _ win _ .”  

 

A hush falls over the room in his wake, so, having soothed their anxieties, he changes gears; “Those TDT fucks haven’t been able to counter us in months, and now they have an enemy just as powerful as their boss, so what is there to worry about?”  He stares, eyes wide and jaw set, “We stay on schedule.  No excuses.  Now let’s get it done.”  With pride, he pounds his right fist against his chest, and the rest of the room follows.  A powerful, dangerous energy electrifies the room, rolling through them in anticipation of what comes next.   

 

***

“Sidney. Get up.”  Jonas pokes his sister’s leg, sticking out of the covers while the rest of her has been absorbed by the mass of blankets taking up the rest of the bed.  Jonas frowns at her motionless leg and waits a few beats for a sign of life before grabbing her ankle, shaking it vigorously, “Sidney!  Get up!  You need to explain yourself!”

 

A heavy groan warbles from somewhere above the leg in Jonas’ hands, and there’s a weak attempt by the soft lump of covers to reclaim what’s left of his sister.  “Later.”  It comes out like a muffled whine.  It is only ten in the morning, but Jonas isn’t in a charitable mood.  

 

“I swear, Sidney, I will drag you off this bed!”  To back up his threat he tugs her ankle firmly, earning another bothered whine in response.  “You need to tell me why I got a text at 2:18 this morning telling me that you were hanging out at a  _ TDT DIVE BAR _ on a ‘reconnaissance mission’.  You told me you were going out with friends, not being stupid!”

 

A familiar, fluffy head pops out towards the top of the bed, and Sidney cranes her neck to pout at her brother.  “Oh come on!  It’s not that serious.  I knew somebody that knew somebody that was hanging out there last night.  I just threw out that maybe we should meet up there, it was totally a coincidence!”  She blows strands of curly hair out of her face,  “No one suspected a thing, now get off my leg!” Sidney wretches her leg free and Jonas gives her a miffed glare.

 

“Did you have your taser, or your pepper spray?” Sidney sits up, sweeping her wild bedhead from her face, tucking it behind her ears.  “Yeah, I always have it with me anyway.”  She rubs her eyes, smearing lingering mascara and eyeliner around her eyes.

 

Jonas crosses his arms, hands fisted in the the ends of his sleeves, “Was it even worth it?”  He doesn’t  _ want _ to be angry.  After all, Sidney is an adult and is entirely capable of making her own decisions, but this is  _ The Devil’s Teeth. _  Something like this is tempting fate, and Jonas doesn’t know if he would have the strength to bear the horror if he’d woken up to find out something terrible had happened.

 

His eyes feel wet.  Dammit!  This is exactly the wrong time for this!

 

Sidney blinks long and slow, the corners of her mouth tilting down.  She pats the bed next to her insistently, and Jonas sits against her right side.  

 

“Yeah, I think it was.”  Sidney wraps a warm arm around Jonas’ back, squeezing him close, tilting her head to look at him, “I wasn’t going behind your back, Joey.  The opportunity just came out of nowhere and I figured the payout warranted the risk.”  She smiles, “It’s not like I had to ask too many questions, those guys didn’t need much prompting to spill the beans.”

 

Jonas allows his tension to deflate somewhat with a sigh, looking back at her, “Well, then do tell.” He rubs his eyes as he brings one leg up onto the bed and turns towards her, giving Sidney a small smile, which she returns twofold.

 

Sidney flops back onto her bed, lacing her fingers behind her head, one leg bent and her other leg casually crossed over the first, her comfort in this moment is almost maddening to Jonas. “They are definitely looking for you, and I’m not just talking about the grunts at the bottom, the head honcho you saw on the roof is  _ highly _ interested in finding you.”

 

“Like… Kill me, find me?  Or Find me, find me?”  Jonas raises an eyebrow, pushing down the pressure under his diaphragm.  She points a finger gun at him “The second one!”  Jonas makes a face at his sister and she continues talking, “I know, I know!  I was just as surprised as you are!  Turns out literally no one except the boss is allowed to touch you, and trust me, the grunts at the bar were  _ pissed _ .”  She laughs heartily and grins, “So, the plot thickens…  What do you think he wants?” 

 

Jonas closes his mouth, conscious that he was plainly showing his surprise, and feels a little embarrassed.  “You mean the  _ gang leader _ doesn’t want his men to shoot me?  That’s…. weird.”  Jonas looks away and stares at a spot on the floor next to his foot, leaning heavily on his bent leg, arms wrapped loosely around it.  Next to him, Sidney waits expectantly, looking like she has already come to her own conclusion.

 

“Well… Maybe he wants to do it himself? Sh… Shoot me, I mean…”  He looks back at her, taking in her mildly pleased expression, “What do you think?”  Her smug smile curls into a grin.  Jonas doesn’t understand what’s so amusing about this.

 

“I think it’s one of two things.”  She holds up two fingers, before folding one down, “One: He wants to do the job himself.”  She holds her second finger up again, “Or two: he doesn’t want you dead.”  

 

Jonas just blinks at her, eyebrows scrunched together, “That’s ridiculous,  I’m the enemy.  That makes no sense!”

 

“Hey!  Hear me out here!”  Sidney nudges her brother with her foot, “You weren’t there, and the way those guys talked about it, it seemed like they thought their boss was going to keep you,  _ Aurora _ , alive.” 

 

Jonas winces at the alias the public gifted him after his Youtube debut.  It’s pulled from the  _ Aurora Borealis _ , otherwise known as the Northern Lights.  It makes Jonas sound like a superhero; Jonas will never be a superhero.

 

“They were so disgusted that their Big Bad Boss was going to spare Aurora.  I was trying so hard to not smile, Jonas, it was so hard!” She laughs again, “It was so hard to play dumb and just go, ‘woooooow really?’ Thank god they were too busy bitching to really notice or care.” Jonas smiles, her laugh is infectious and he’d be lying if it weren’t a little funny.

 

“You really think he doesn’t want to kill me?  Then what does he want?” Laying prone and looking up at him, Sidney shrugs, face twisting in an honest expression.  “I don’t know.  If I had to guess, maybe he wants to work with you?”  Jonas makes a noncommittal grunt, gazing out the window with unfocused eyes.  

 

“... Don’t do that again.”  He turns back to his sister, “You learned a lot but… let’s not push our luck.  We only have so much of it.”  Sidney hums, and they sit in thoughtful silence.

 

How odd,  Jonas thinks, that the Devil would want to make a deal with him.  What could Jonas ever offer him?

 

***

 

This is getting fucking annoying.  

 

Another chip of wood splits off the desk, long, thin and curled, produced by a strong, spinning motion as Mitch tries his damn hardest to turn his switchblade into a drill.  He leans back into his cushy chair with a grumble.  There is no one to yell at, and he needs to stay in this damn office until someone comes back with the report from the scouts.

 

The boys are spread thin to blanket the whole of their territory and are even stretching dangerously into their enemies territory in the east.  This move is especially risky considering how bold ASH has been as of late.

 

Rich fuckers don’t even  _ need _ to run the streets.  They must consider it a hobby.  Disgusting.

 

Deep in Mitch’s belly a smoldering pit feeds the coals in his chest.  Seeping through his limbs, up his throat, then down to his fingers and toes, until he’s clenching his jaw.  His eyes lose focus.  He can’t wait to wipe those arrogant smiles off their faces; they think there aren’t consequences for their actions because Daddy’s friends with the police chief? Because Daddy’s on the city counsel?  They’ll learn that money won’t protect them from what’s coming.

 

It’ll be a fucking wreckoning.

 

A shrill shattering, returns Mitch to his surroundings.  To his left, the floor is splattered with old coffee and fragments of a coffee mug.  His desk is also several inches further away from Mitch’s chair than it was a minute ago; the contents of its surface are shuffled into disarray, as if a small earthquake had rattled the office.  

 

But it was just Mitch, he sighs out his nose and makes no move to clean the mess he made.  Instead, he presses down the heat behind his eyes by squeezing them shut and clenching his teeth hard enough to hurt, swallowing it down, swallowing all his demons down.

 

There’s a  knock at the door, a thick rasping that can’t be mistaken for Scratch’s energetic clatter, or Cliff’s slow thud.  Javier pushes through the door a moment after announcing his presence.  

 

“Hey, most of the scouts have called in...”  Javier closes the door behind him, pausing slightly as he takes in the state of the desk and the smashed, wet mess on the floor.  He ignores it, eyes falling back on Mitch, taking in his posture and body language.  He knows Mitch well enough to know when to keep his mouth shut.

 

He drops a few printouts on the desk, sitting down across from Mitch and launches into the debriefing.  “It’s not looking too good, Mitch.  Most of the scouts came up empty.”  He laces his fingers in front of him, resting them on his belly, “The few leads we got are barely strings, and most of it’s shit we already know anyway.  The only confirmed Aurora sightings were at the convenience store and the building we were sittin’ on when we burned down the station.”  

 

Mitch stares at him mutely before looking to the printouts, scooping them up as Javier talks, “Got a few dodgy stories about him grabbing a few fuckers, purse snatchers, the like.”  Javier leans back in the chair, shrugging, “I’m sorry dude, this Aurora guy doesn’t seem too keen on making waves.  A two-hit-wonder.”  He watches Mitch carefully as he finishes.

 

Mitch flips through the papers.  They are printouts of text conversations from scouts: stories they found while poking around and anything else even loosely tied to Aurora.  It’s all useless.  He glares at Javier like he’s to blame, “This is it?  Are you fucking serious?  Twenty-five fucking scouts and  _ this _ is what they come back with?” 

 

Javier blinks slowly at him, scratching at his beard, “Hey, they are good scouts, you know that.  It ain’t their fault this ‘Aurora’ fucker decided to ghost.  Maybe he got scared, maybe he’s waiting for something, maybe he’s fucking dead.  Nobody knows shit.”  

 

Javier cautiously defends his subordinates from Mitch’s wrath and any unwarranted damage he could cause by lashing out.  The gang already isn’t happy that they aren’t allowed to light this guy up; if morale drops any lower things could get dicey.

 

Mitch throws the papers down and throws himself back into his chair childishly, rocking it back until it nearly tips over, arms crossed.  He grumbles and glares around the room, thinking.  Javier waits, hoping quietly that his friend won’t be a dumbass about this and just let it go.  Mitch needs to focus on the bigger picture, like they originally planned when they started all this.

 

After several minutes of silence, Mitch looks back at him,“I got an idea.”  

 

_ Fuck _ .  Javier takes very deep, measured breaths, hiding his frustration behind a smile, “Alright… lay it on me.”

 

Mitch grins at his friend, all too pleased with himself and Javier definitely wants to strangle him for being so smug while being such an idiot.

 

***

 

It’s been two weeks since Sidney made her daring reconnaissance mission deep in The Devil’s Teeth territory.  The knowledge that the leader of the infamous gang doesn’t want to kill ‘Aurora’ is of little comfort to Jonas.  If anything it further complicates his anxiety.  

 

What does this mean?  Before it was simple, but their reaction is anything  _ but _ simple.  This isn’t how it works in comic books.

 

Not that comic books are always simple anyway, with their spintering storylines and ridiculous plots, but at least some things stay the same.  For example, Batman’s arch nemesis has always been the Joker.  Then Superman and Wonder Woman have Lex Luthor and Ares respectively, this will never change.  There has always been a dichotomy between supers.  Good and Bad.  Right and Wrong.  Good always hates Bad and Bad always hates Good.  That’s the way it’s been since the beginning but this is… different.  

 

How do you react when instead of predictably lashing out, your enemy protects you?  No comic book Jonas has ever read tells him what he should do.  There’s no model to go off of.

 

“Are you still moping?”  Sidney’s head pops into Jonas’ vision, leaning over him, against the arm of the couch that Jonas is laying on and he frowns at her, “I’m not  _ moping _ .”

 

She pokes his nose, “Sure you’re not, I can hear you thinking from across the room.  Sibling telepathy, JoJo.  You can’t deny it.”  She smiles knowingly at him, to which Jonas frowns more, but more because he really can’t deny that his sister is one hundred percent right.  He puts his hand on her face and pushes her head away from his so he can sit up, Sidney snorts and laughs as she moves away.

 

“This is serious, Sidney.  What are we going to do?”  Jonas stands to decrease the height difference between him and his sister, he’s mildly annoyed that she’s still somewhat taller than him.  She smiles easily at Jonas, “What we’re  _ not _ going to do is stress about something we can’t do anything about.  What we’re going to do is what we’ve already been doing.  We’re going to train and learn everything we can so we’re prepared.  That’s all we can do.”  

 

She’s so infuriatingly level-headed about all this, further proving to Jonas that  _ she _ should have been the one to get these powers instead of him.  Alas the universe is hardly that charitable.  

 

“Okay, sure.”  He toes on his sneakers, bending down to tighten the laces.  “We’re just gonna charge blindly into danger again and again.”  He looks up at her, she’s wearing sweats, shouldering a bag of baseballs with a bat sticking out of it, “Exactly!” She chimes, all too merry about this.

 

***

 

Practice it is then.  

 

The twins spent several weeks scoping out the best place to exercise Joey’s powers away from prying eyes.  Ideally within walking distance and windowless.  After much debate, they decide on a boarded up strip of abandoned houses.  No one but squatters have lived in this neighborhood for a few years now.  

 

To Jonas’ displeasure, it’s a ways into The Devil’s Teeth’s land, but time is short, and he needs to hone his skills before the head of TDT makes another move.

 

They’ve taken to walking through the backyards, hopping fences, with difficulty, but it’s better than being watched and a pattern being established by any onlookers.  They’ve staked out three different apartments, and go between them at random, just in case.  

 

Today, it’s Jonas’ ‘favorite’, and the easiest to get to.  It only takes two fences to get into the right backyard.  Sidney unlocks the two padlocks on the back door, opening it slowly, and Jonas steps in first with great care.  They can never be sure if someone has taken up residence in their absence.   Behind him, Sidney silently slides the bat from her backpack, walking carefully on the old, dusty floorboards.  Moving deeper into the house, they determine that the coast seems clear, and they make their way smoothly through the rest of the house, making sure all openings are covered to prevent Jonas’ light from slipping outside.

 

“Alright!  Looks like we’re good.”  Once everything’s secured, Sidney swings her backpack off her shoulder and lets it thud to the ground, a puff of dust rolling up in its wake.  Crouching, she rummages through the, pulling out a camping lamp and placing it against the wall, switching it on.

 

Around them, the room lights up, though there isn’t much to see.  Most hints of life were cleared out long ago, leaving only the dust, broken furniture and the ratty rug.  Perhaps when this place was inhabited by more than just rodents, this particular room looks like it was a living room, connected seamlessly to a kitchen.  Sidney and Jonas passed through the kitchen when they entered the house, most of the cabinets ripped out of the walls and leaving holes and plaster all over the floor.  The living room has been left with only rotting wallpaper, the remains of a disgusting looking couch, and shapes of slightly cleaner floor marking where other furniture once was.

 

It doesn’t smell very good.  Dust particles float visibly in the air like snow.  The high probability of toxic mold prompts Sidney and Jonas to pull their cloth facemasks up over their noses.  Sidney’s a clown, and Jonas’ plain black, despite his sister’s encouragement to wear the tie-dyed spare to ‘really get into the spirit’ of his ‘alter ego’ as she put it.  It’s not going to happen anytime soon.

 

Getting down to business, Jonas stands in the kitchen, near the wall, stance wide and grounded while Sidney stands at the other end of the living room, bat in hand.  She practices her swing on empty air, baseballs littering the floor around her, “Try not to send it right back at me, I still have bruises from last time.”  

 

Jonas can hear the smile in her teasing voice, but she’s not entirely joking.  The bruises have taught them both to wear padding under their sweats to decrease the likelihood of causing any real damage.  Sidney has even taken to wearing a helmet.

 

“That was an accident and you know it!”  Jonas’ voice rises in defense, hands balled into fists.  She laughs, tossing a ball up in the air, and strikes it with practiced ease.  Jonas blocks it with a small, focused swipe of light, barely a foot or two in diameter.  It’s just enough to send the ball thudding against the wall to his right.

 

He’s gotten a lot better, having learned from past mistakes that overexerting his powers leaves him open to attack, and that simply reflecting attacks back to where they came from can lead to unfortunate consequences.  Soon it might be bullets instead of baseballs, and instead of a bruised stomach it could be… well, Jonas doesn’t want to think about it.  It won’t happen.  It won’t.

 

It can’t.

 

***

 

“This is fucking stupid.” Cliff grumbled, held in the air by the force of Mitch’s powers, well over a dozen feet off the ground.  “Shuddup and paint.”  Mitch leans against the car, watching his friends spraypaint the scorched wall of what remains of the station they burned down weeks ago.  

 

“Uh, I think I’m with Cliff on this one, what makes you think this will work?  It’s a little… obscure.” Javier looks over his shoulder, also held aloft, wearing a surgical mask and covered in blue and white stains. 

 

“It’ll work!  I thought you liked paint, Bozo.”  Mitch ignores their misgivings, his gaze shifting to the smallest of his friends,  “HEY! Careful, Scratch!  If you get paint all over the goddamn wall I’ll drop you!”  Held at about the middle of the wall, Scratch laughs boisterously, her voice bouncing off the street and surrounding buildings, “and why not?  It looks bad anyway, I think more red’ll improve it!”  To prove her point, Scratch leans away from the wall and points her spray can at Cliff, earning an outraged shout as she sprays his hat red. 

 

Mitch covers his face with one hand, rubbing his eyes and pulls the cigarette from his lips, swearing under his breath.  When the urge to squish Scratch like a bug passes, he looks back up, “Will you two shut the FUCK up and get a move on?!  We’re burning moonlight here and you’ll wake up the whole fucking street.”  

 

The trio quiets down and returns to work to Mitch’s relief.  Moving his friends around simultaneously takes a lot of focus and it’s giving Mitch a migraine to do this steadily and safely.  Luckily of him, it appears they’ve found their focus as well.  

 

“Ay, boss!  I’m done with the red dude, lemme down!” Scratch bends back almost unnaturally and grins at him, and Mitch floats her down until she’s barely five feet off the ground and lets go.  It’s a release that Mitch savors, feeling the bulging vein in his temple relax somewhat.  Scratch lands with ease, bounces towards him with red and white paint all down her front.  “What’s next, boss?” Mitch gestures to his left with his cigarette without looking, “Now do the yellow one.”  She disappears from his vision, and hears cans clink together quietly.

 

Mitch stares up at the wall in front of him, really taking it in.  It’s a sloppy maze of blue and white spanning the entirety of the wall; they’ve been at it for well over an hour, but now it’s the home stretch.  Just a few more lines and Scratch’s artistic additions, and then they can go home.  

 

Scratch is back, but he hears her before he sees her, “Fly me up, Mitch!”  She mock salutes him, yellow spray paint in hand.  He points his chin out towards the wall with a grunt, and when she’s in position, he raises her up slowly to where he wants her to paint the yellow guy.  As she goes up she makes a squeezed giggle of sorts, but stays still, “That never gets old!”  

“Get it done so we can leave.”  Javier grunts, leaning away from the wall and waves at Mitch to put him down too, having finished the lines.  Mitch lowers his friend to the ground and soon after lowers Cliff after he finishes the writing.  With each weight dropped, Mitch feels lighter and breathes easier, his shoulders and back loosening from their knots.

 

“Scratch, what’s taking so long?  It’s one fucking circle.”  Cliff shouts up at her.  She responds by flipping him the bird over her shoulder with her free hand, “Hold them horses, country boy.  I’m almost done…  There!”  She grins especially wide as she looks back at them, sliding down her mask, yellow and red streaks on her face.

Finally, Mitch gets to lower the last of his friends to the ground, trying not to groan out loud as the mental strain disappears, partially relieving his migraine like a gasp of fresh air.  For a moment his head feels too light, and he has to measure his breaths through his nose to chase away the faintness.  Once Scratch is on the ground and Mitch’s vision clears, he gets his first look at their handiwork.  Mitch grins and crosses his arms; beside him, Cliff nods with a hint of a smile on his face, and Javier admires their work with a gruff “Not bad…”  

 

Scratch puts her hands on her hips and looks expectantly at Mitch, “Well?  What do you think of what I did?”  

 

Mitch looks from her to the wall, squinting at the yellow circle closer to the top left corner of the maze, “... I didn’t fucking tell you to put horns on the fucker.” He points at the yellow circle on the wall, and despite the outrage in his voice, a small smile is fighting for room on his face ; he’s too tired to fight it.

 

Above them, the large yellow circle has two curvy, red horns and a devilish tail.  Scratch straightens her back proudly, “It’s symbolic, like that Banksy dude!”  Javier and Cliff laugh heartily at her, “You have to be smart to be symbolic you idiot.” Cliff grins at her.  Scratch punches Cliff for his smartassery, and Javier holds his belly, still laughing.  Beside Javier, Mitch smiles big behind his cigarette, “Eh, I like it.  Now let’s get out of here.”

 

Scratch beams at him, gasping in surprise and points at Cliff, getting in his face, “SEE?  _ He _ likes it!  So fuck your opinion!”  Mitch slips into the driver’s seat and starts the car, ignoring their bickering and Javier slides in next to him with a sigh from the bottom of his chest, melting against the chair.  Cliff and Scratch follow suit and it’s quieter than usual for the garbage gang.

 

“You think he’ll get it? The message?”  Javier quibs, turning towards Mitch.

 

“He’ll get it.  He looked like a fucking nerd.  He’ll get it.”  Mitch flicks the cigarette out the window and drives off, towards home.  Behind them the fruit of their labor waits until dawn for the public to get a look at it, then they’ll do the rest of Mitch’s work for him.

 

***

 

Sidney pokes Jonas’ arm, prompting him to look up from his chemistry notes and tug his earbuds out.  “What is it?”  He asks quietly, looking around to ensure his whispering isn’t disturbing anyone.  She has a strange look on her face, caught between confusion and amusement, and instead of answering she pushes her phone towards him. 

 

Jonas gives her a questioning look before scooping the phone off the table and investigating what warranted her interruption.  It’s Twitter.  More specifically a tweet via the account of one of the local news networks.  It’s a series of pictures with the caption, “Bizarre graffiti on burnt down police station, the work of TDT?”

 

Enlarging the photos, Jonas can see why one would pose that question.  Each picture is a different angle of the same thing: a larger than life depiction of the iconic arcade game, Pac-Man, on a scorched wall.  It’s a big maze of blue, the paths riddled with white dots and to anyone with even cursory knowledge of pop culture, it’s unmistakable.  If that weren’t enough, there’s Pac-Man in the corner, mouth open, and in the small blue box at the center, Blinky, the red ghost.  

 

While easily recognizable, the lines are messy and the dots inconsistently placed and shaped.  Definitely a rush job.  Given the overall sloppiness of the ‘mural’, there is a surprising amount of detail put into Pac-Man, with red horns and a tail, and the ghost, Blinky, the only ghost present.  The graffiti itself poses some interesting questions given it’s placement alone, but even more curious is the writing above the maze.  “GO BACK TO THE START”  It’s written in the same obnoxious yellow paint as the Pac-Man.  Jonas feels his brows come together and he looks to his sister, who has a similar look of confusion on her face.

 

“Who… what?”  Jonas mumbles.  Sidney shrugs vaguely, and closes her books, “No clue, but it seems… important.”  Jonas follows her lead, packing up his stuff and they make their way out of the library quietly.  

 

Jonas turns this ‘message’ over in his mind the whole walk across campus.  Sidney at some point proposes they head to the dining hall on campus and put their heads together, he nods vaguely and remains in his head until they sit down, with newly acquired snacks in hand.  The cafeteria on campus is busy this time of day, aided by the presence of some kind of charity event run by some of the greek life chapters on campus.  The noise lends the twins some cover to avoid prying ears.

 

“Well, this is weirder than our usual type of weird, isn’t it, Joey?”  Sidney drums her fingers on the table, and Jonas hums in agreement, cracking open his bottle of juice, “It certainly is.”

 

Sidney pulls the pictures up again, putting the phone between them, “So,” she draws out slowly, “TDT’s into retro arcade games.  Can’t get enough of Pac-Man and, uh, what’s the red ghost’s name?” Sidney leans her head on her hand.

 

Jonas stops completely as a shot of cold anxiety spikes through his gut, staring silently at the phone before mumbling, “Blinky”.  Sidney watches him with slight concern, drawing her eyebrows together, “Blinky…  does that mean something?”

 

Hearing Sidney parrot it back to him brings back a memory still fresh in his brain,  _ “That’s funny,  _ **_Blinky_ ** _ , I think we both know you know exactly who I am” _ , his words echo back to Jonas, who looks back at the writing, ‘GO BACK TO THE START’. 

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he whispers under his breath, putting his hands on the edge of the table and leans back until his arms are straight, staring up at the ceiling with a groan.  He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes.  “It’s for me.”  He says without a shred of doubt, folding his arms in and leaning on the table.  He looks at Sidney warily and she stares back with obvious confusion.

 

“Well?  Why is it for you?  What does this even mean? _ ” _ Her voice rising slightly in frustration and concern.  Jonas heavily sighs through his nose, staring at the picture before looking back at his sister.

“Their leader called me Blinky when we fought that night the police station burned down.  I’m Blinky and he’s Pac-Man.  I think.” He shrugs, “I guess he wanted to convey his message without anyone else figuring out?  So he used... Pac-Man.”  It’s ridiculous, but Jonas supposes that it was ultimately effective.  Definitely on par with The Devil’s Teeth’s reputation.  Jonas is becoming increasingly resigned to the fact that he’ll never know what to expect from these people.

 

Sidney nods, still looking lost, and he can see the gears turning in her head.  Despite the seriousness of this discovery, Jonas enjoys watching the emotions play out on her face.  First stubborn disbelief that something so ludicrous could be done by a notorious gang, than exasperated amusement, then tired acceptance that this is really something she has to deal with.  

 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.  “You know, I can’t figure out if this is ingenious or just plain stupid.”  She shakes her head with a tired laugh.  Opening her eyes, she smiles faintly and leans her head heavily on her hands, “Well, I suppose ‘Go back to the start’ means the convenience store then, doesn’t it?”

 

Jonas nods, his smile widening while watching Sidney’s face journey unfold, “I suppose it does.”  He quirks an eyebrow at her, “Shall we go forth blindly into danger, sis?” Sidney laughs shortly, pulling herself together, “Right behind you, bro.”

 

***

 

The process of putting on the various layers of protection is sobering.  As Jonas pulls on the hoodie over his vest, and slides the cloth face mask over his head, Sidney packs her backpack with all the essentials.  After much debate, the contents of the backpack are as follows: taser, pocket knife, baseball bat, chain, bolt cutters, goggles, flashlight, and pepper spray.  Attempting to be as well prepared as a couple of college students way in over their head can be, they did their best to cover as many bases as possible.

 

Despite the natural heat California is known for, both twins are wearing hoodies to obscure the shape of their bodies and the protective padding underneath them.  Sidney is wearing her clown face mask around her neck, sweat pants over shin guards, and steel-toed shoes.  Jonas himself is dressed similarly, with the addition of his black face mask and baseball cap.  

 

They’re as ready as two twenty-one year-old part-time crime fighters can be.  When they set off, the sun has started dipping below the horizon and with their face masks stuffed under the collars of their hoodies they don’t look too suspicious, if a bit lumpy.

 

***

 

The plan is simple: go in from the back and work their way around the building to the front, looking for whatever it is TDT wants them to find.  This will be a little tricky given the convenience store has been fenced in pending either renovation or demolition.

 

This could very well be a trap.  It’s probably  _ is _ a trap.

 

Somehow that doesn’t sit right in Jonas’ gut.  There’s an insistent nagging burrowed deep in his chest that knows this isn’t a trap.  Why would  _ he _ go through all this effort to leave a cryptic message that only ‘Aurora’ would be able to figure out if it was just a trap?  He seems like a straight shooter to Jonas, so why would he play all these games if it were simply a trick? 

 

The location isn’t right for a showdown either; the convenience store is just too open and public to be feasible.  They would invariably be interrupted by the police just like last time.  This is clearly supposed to be a private affair, or he wouldn’t be jumping through so many hoops to ensure that Jonas was the only one to know what it all meant.  It’s just… not a trap.  When he explains it to Sidney, he can tell she doesn’t quite get it, but maybe because she wasn’t there she can’t… but Jonas knows he’s right.

 

This truth, however, doesn’t save him from intense stress about it as he and his sister approach their destination that night.  To mask their intentions from watchful eyes, they walk up a block past the store before cutting through the alleys that lead to the back of the store.

 

They slow down once they enter the dark alleys and Jonas feels as though he’s trapezing around the edges of a boss battle he’s not leveled up enough for.

 

Behind him, Jonas hears the rustle of Sidney’s backpack as she reaches over her shoulder and extracts the baseball bat.  “This is a bad idea.”  Sidney whispers, her lack of confidence clearly broadcasted by the lilt in her voice.  He hums his assent and nods without turning his head, not trusting his voice to remain steady enough to respond with words of encouragement.

 

The fenced-in husk of a convenience store that Jonas wrecked some weeks ago is as dark as the alleys Jonas and Sidney passed through to get here.  After the brief investigation was finished and the store cleaned out of anything that one would want to steal, there wasn’t much of a need for lights anyway.  Or the owner of the property didn’t have the money to mount lights to protect his destroyed store.  Jonas tries not to think about it.  

 

As they approach the fence, Sidney drops her backpack and pulls out the wire cutters.  Jonas keeps watch, even though it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to hide, given that the only light that reached the back of the store came down the alley from the street, over fifteen feet away.  The slight, narrow angle of the stream was hardly helpful to anyone trying to see more than a few inches past their own nose to begin with.  If there was anyone hiding in the darkness, it wasn’t likely that Jonas would see them until it was too late, but that advantage goes both ways.

 

Sidney joins Jonas at the edge of the fence with the bolt cutters in hand, crouching down and going to work on the fence.  It takes her several, agonizing minutes to quietly cut a hole in the fence big enough to crawl through, each second punctuated by the sound of Jonas’ blood hammering through his ears.  When she’s finished, she carefully pulls the section of chain away and places it against the fencing next to the hole.  She pats Jonas’ leg to get his attention, “Alright, you first.” 

 

Jonas nods, and gets on his hands and knees to squeeze through the hole.  As he passes through he faintly realizes that if they have to make a quick escape, this small hole will be less than ideal.  He doesn’t say anything about it as he stands, dusting off his knees before helping his sister wiggle through the fencing without hurting herself.

 

“Alright, Dora, what else do you have in that bag of yours?” Jonas pulls her up.  She huffs at him, “You’ve chosen an interesting time to be a jackass, Jonas.”  Sidney pulls her bag through the hole, putting away the cutters and pulling out the flashlight.

 

In an attempt to make the flashlight’s beam less blindingly conspicuous, Sidney stretched a white, cotton T-shirt over the bulb and tied it off before they left.  Now that it’s being put to the test, it proves to have been a good idea; the muted flashlight gives them some light to work with but doesn’t give off enough light to be easily spotted from the street or above.

 

Sidney sweeps her light along the back of the building in a slow, broad stroke, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary.  The twins walk along the entire length of the wall, finding nothing.  There’s nothing in the trash bins leaning against the wall, or along the fence, the back of the convenience store is a bust.  

 

“Whatever it is we’re looking for must be  _ in _ the store.” Jonas whispers to Sidney like a sigh, and she nods in agreement.  They were afraid of this scenario.

 

To go into the store is obvious suicide: a closed space with only one way in and out.  They would be fish in a barrel.  It would be child’s play for The Devil’s Teeth to corner them in the store and finish this where it started in the first place.

 

However, that’s only true if it’s a trap, which Jonas still stubbornly believes it isn’t.  “This is a bad fucking idea, Jonas.”  Sidney whispers at him as he starts to walk up the alley to the front of the store.  He looks over his shoulder at his sister.   Sidney is gripping her bat, looking like she may be wondering if she should bash her brother with it and drag him away from this very obvious trap. 

 

“I have to know, Sid.  This could be important.”  He can’t make her understand, so he rounds the corner, out into the open.  Behind him, he can hear a strangled gasp that sounds awfully like his name.  

 

He walks slowly, scanning the street and buildings for signs of foul play.  By the time he reaches the doors, he hasn’t spotted anything out of the ordinary.  In the absence of active threats, Jonas becomes very aware that every nerve in his body is tingling with the onset of a fight or flight response.  If his heart wasn’t thumping before, it certainly is now.  He turns his back to the street, and examines the store.

 

All the windows are still broken and boarded up, including the doors, which are chained and locked closed at the handles.  Well, at some point they  _ were _ locked.  Now the chain and padlock lay on the ground in front of the doors, a promising sign that what they are looking for is indeed on the other side of these doors.

 

Jonas gets one hand wrapped around the handle before a shuffling to his right makes him whip his head around.  At the opening of the alley from which he came, his sister is making her way to her brother’s side, bat in one hand and flashlight in the other.  Her presence calms him, knowing he doesn’t have to face this alone renews his shaky confidence and he grips the door handle.

 

“Ready?”  He asks, and Sidney nods.  Jonas begins to pull the damaged door open as his sister shines the flashlight into the store, sweeping the beam quickly from one side to the other to confirm that no one is hiding just inside.  When no one pops out to shoot them, they creep inside, pulling the door shut behind them.

 

Jonas groans out a sigh the moment the door closes, his body tight.  “Wow” he breathes, mostly to himself, and moves further into the store to inspect what’s left of the place.  “Wow doesn’t even begin to cover it.”  Sidney sighs, “Let’s find what we’re looking for and get the hell out of here.”

 

Slowly, they comb through what remains.  There isn’t much: a few empty racks, empty fridges, a cleared counter... it’s a shell of what it used to be.  The silence shouts to Jonas things he doesn’t want to hear, so he busies himself by meticulously searching for whatever it is they were sent here to find.  

 

Several minutes later, everything that could possibly hold an object, an envelope or anything at all has been searched inside and out.  There’s nothing here.

 

Jonas struggles to fend off the growing suspicion that this was all some kind of mistake on his part, aggressively rummaging through the drawers beneath the counter until he hears Sidney call him quietly, “Hey, Joey, check this out.”  A burst of excitement rolls through his system as he stands, following Sidney’s flashlight to a section of wall at the back of the store.  For the first time since Jonas ripped through this place two months ago, Jonas looks at the crumbling gash spanning nearly the entire back wall.  

 

It looks so… violent.  

 

It instills in Jonas a terrible chill, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.  Memories flood back in, and he looks to see Sidney’s hidden face, and wonders if she feels it too.  

 

This was definitely the start.  This gash started it all in more ways than the oil in the waves did nearly a year ago.  

 

This made  _ real _ waves.  Sidney snaps him out of his thoughts, “Look, right here.” She moves closer to the wall, the flashlight’s rays narrowing to the the size of a dinner plate, prompting Jonas to step up to see what she sees.

 

Small and easily overlooked, there’s writing in chicken scratch handwriting that reads “379 Rail Ave.  Be there at 2AM, 9/19.  Come alone, or we start poking holes in some poor fucker. :)”  in thin, red marker.

 

Sidney snaps a picture with her phone, the flash surprising Jonas. Then, quickly, she’s on him, “We need to go.” She grabs his arm and starts tugging him towards the doors with a strange, firm grip.  Jonas tugs against the pull, eyes wide, and heart in his throat, “Sidney, didn’t you read it?!  That’s  _ three days _ from now!” His voice raises without him realizing it, “They’re going to hurt someone if I don’t show!”  Sidney continues to tug him along, not looking at him, “Jonas, we need to go  _ now.” _  She presses, her voice hard and urgent.  

 

Horrified, Jonas rips his arm free, stepping away from her as if she’s a stranger.  “What is wrong with you, Sidney?  Do you not understand what’s happening here?” Jonas nearly shouts, gesturing wildly to the store around them, a sore memory for them both.  Sidney whips around, hands curled into fists at her side, “I understand what’s going on  _ perfectly _ ,” She takes a step towards him and now he can see that her eyes are wet,  _ “ now can we please go?” _  Her voice turns raw, and she’s shaking.  Jonas lets his arms fall loosely to his sides, all at once the fight leaving him as tears roll down from his sister’s eyes and disappear into the cloth of her mask.

 

She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heels and opening the door, sliding out, and Jonas follows her, his feet falling dumbly, like a machine.  The walk back down the alley, through the fence, and the street it dumps into is made in silence.  Jonas feels a strange emptiness wrapped in a tight knot around his chest, eyes strangely dry, numbly pulls his mask down and pushes down his hood as they enter the street.  Ahead of him, Sidney swings off her backpack and struggles with the zipper.  Even though her face is determinedly turned away from him, Jonas can hear her sniffling.

 

Quietly, he kneels beside her and takes the zipper from her with slightly steadier hands, pulling the backpack open.  He puts the bat and flashlight away wordlessly, zipping it closed before putting it aside.  Sidney is sitting on her legs with her hands balled up against her thighs, motionless.  Without saying a word, Jonas puts his hand on her shoulder and pulls her to him, and she wraps her arms around him in return, sniffling into his shoulder.

 

Jonas just stares up to the sky, past the lights of the streets and wishes he could see the stars, like he could in Sellwood.  “This is getting too scary, Jonas.  I’m scared I’m gonna lose you.”  Sidney mumbles into his shoulder, and squeezes closer, but he says nothing.  He can’t make promises he doesn’t know if he can keep.

 

They sit there for several more minutes, and the city is quiet around them.  When they’re ready enough, they pull each other up and go home to figure out what they are to do.  

 

Jonas knows there’s no real choice, not unless he’s willing to let someone suffer.

 

***

 

Three days pass in a blink, but somehow, Jonas’ dread stretches that same time beyond three lifetimes.  In everything he did he was half here and half in a faraway place in the back of his mind, circling through endless loops of anxiety and desperate attempts to think his way out of this hole.

 

Technically, Jonas doesn’t have to do anything.  He could Ignore it, call the police, and never patrol again.  He’ll never pretend to be a hero again.  After all,  Jonas lost his taste for it as soon as the real stakes of holding another person’s life in his hands slammed him down to his foundations, threatening to crush him under their weight.  

 

But it’s not that easy; there is no guarantee calling the police will solve this neatly, as it’s become clear over the last several months that the police are far out of their depth in dealing with The Devil’s Teeth.  Even if they could do anything, the innocent hostage might not survive, and it will be Jonas’ fault.

 

Jonas can’t stomach becoming an accomplice to murder.  To be complicit in the destruction of someone’s life by not doing everything within his power to act is unthinkable.  Inaction isn’t an option, passing off the responsibility is too high of a risk, thus the only option left is  _ direct _ action.

 

This is only something Jonas can do.

 

He’s thrown up and broken down more times than he can count on both hands.  School is impossible, so he sends an email to his professors notifying them that he’s direly ill.  It’s not technically a lie, given he’s barely been able to eat.

 

Sidney isn’t much better, with a distant look in her eyes that Jonas must have too.  Periodically, they go through bouts of discussing their plan vigorously, for hours, punctuated by long stretches of avoiding each other’s eye by staying in separate rooms, and then small, intense arguments about how they could possibly have ended up in this situation.  It ends in tears every time and a loss of words.  They did this to themselves.

 

It’s now two pm, September 18th, and the Doomsday Clock is down to just twelve hours before Jonas has to make or break someone else’s life. The graffiti has already been painted over by the city, but its image lives on, immortalized by social media along with a slew of theories about its purpose.  

 

Most think it’s a joke while others think it truly has some deep, cultural meaning referring the popularized culture of violence-blah blah blah.  Jonas stopped reading after two lines.  Why read the blissfully ignorant interpretations of random nobodies that are so detached from the reality of what’s happening in this city that they might as well be on another planet? 

 

There’s nothing anyone can say or do that could improve this.  This is a solo suicide mission whether they like it or not.  Sidney has screamed herself hoarse trying to force Jonas to let her come with him.  She can’t let him go in there alone.  She can’t let him go in alone.  No dammit!  She can’t let this happen!  However, in her eyes, Jonas can see she understands how futile this is.   Even as she claws for some kind of control that neither of them have over the situation, she knows she’ll be forced to accept that this is happening.

 

The Devil’s Teeth has them hooked and now they’re steadily pulling them into an unavoidable confrontation.  

 

With twelve hours left, their scrambling and avoidance has left the twins with little time to nail down a plan for entering the jaws of the enemy, though there is very little planning to be done.  They’d already researched the address left at the convenience store; that was done before they even went to sleep that night.

 

It’s a warehouse, part of a rundown complex on the edge of Sacramento's industrial district.  Google Maps provides a rough rundown of the area from above, as well as a street view that shows them exactly what they’re walking into.  It’s deep in TDT territory, but otherwise it’s not much to look at: wide streets, lined with buildings and equipment looking worse for wear.  They doubt this street is traveled by anyone these days.

 

There are plenty places to hide, with the low roofs, alleys, and dead ends.  They know they are at a disadvantage given TDT’s home field advantage.  It wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to consider that they would use this area to hide whatever they want away from prying eyes.

 

It’s a lion’s den if Jonas has ever seen one.  Perhaps, Jonas thinks, a better term would be devil’s jaw or something.  

 

The moment they touch the industrial district they have to assume their presence will be noticed, so the plan is to drive to the outskirts, and park in an alley about half a mile from the established rendezvous point.  

 

This is where Sidney, despite her aggressive displeasure, will wait.  From here she will stay outside the car, keys in the ignition, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.  From here she will listen and watch for Jonas’ signal to call the police if this goes south.

 

Jonas’ signal will be a wave of light thrown directly up, clear over the buildings to light up the night not unlike a flare.  If this is the case, Sidney will call 911 via a burner, and take off whether or not Jonas makes it back to the car within three minutes of the flare.

 

For Jonas’ part, he will have to sneak his way across the complex before entering the warehouse and initiating what will likely be the scariest confrontation of Jonas’ life.

 

He’s shaken to his core, but the affirmation that Jonas will not become someone that inflicts pain on others if he can help it is cemented within his heart.  Whoever TDT has taken doesn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of this twisted game.

 

No one will be left in the hands of people that will horribly abuse their power over them if Jonas can help it.  The thought turns his stomach inside out and burns in a way that is far too familiar.  Jonas knows what these kinds of people are like and what they are capable of, so if he’s the only one that can intervene… what choice does he have?

 

***

 

The car is silent, along with everything else within a quarter mile.  They’ve been sitting here for over half an hour.

 

Jonas breathes with difficult, and his sister does the same with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.  A taser and a pocket knife are in his lap, at his feet, a backpack full of every piece of self defense equipment the twins have acquired over these past few months of playing at vigilante work.  Within the car, bright blue digits tell them it’s 1:45, and it’s time to move.

 

Orange lights dimly pierce the heavy shadows and darkness of the dormant complex around them.  Jonas turns to look at Sidney, but it is so dark within the car and the alley outside that he can see nothing but the moisture on her eyes.  She turns to meet his gaze, eyes wet, as they have been for three days.

 

“Maybe we don’t-” She starts, a hurried whisper, Jonas stops her, grasping one of her wrists.  “Sidney.  No.”  His voice is softer than hers and she squeezes the steering wheel even harder, voice rising “But Jonas, the police-”

 

“Sidney, you know we can’t.”  His voice cracks with the effort, and his eyes spill over with a hot prick that takes over before he can fight it.  Sidney clenches her jaw, and visibly swallows his words down, and she’s crying too.

 

“Jonas, I’m scared.”  If the car wasn’t already completely silent, Jonas would have missed it.  He leans heavily over the seat divider, wrapping his arms tightly around his sister, and she squeezes him back like she can keep him here in the car with her.  “Jonas,  _ please _ .”

 

He pulls away, and it’s too soon, but they’re down to the wire now and it’s not just Jonas’ life that’s on the line here.  Sidney grabs his hands, “I’ll be right here.  You have to come back.”  She wills strength into her voice, and nods at him, “I love you, Joey.”

 

Jonas forces a smile and squeezes her hands, “I’ll be back, I love you too.”  He kisses his sister on the cheek and collects himself and the few things he’s taking with him.  A taser and a knife, it’s not nearly enough, but it’s what he has.  With a small burst of green light dancing around him, Jonas pushes open the door, swallowing down the knot in his throat at the same time.

 

He doesn’t look back until he’s almost out of the alley, though he can barely see Sidney sitting in the darkened car.  Jonas supposes that’s for the best; after all, if he can’t see her, neither can The Devil’s Teeth.  He peeks around the corner of the building, looking out of the alley and down the main road through the complex.

 

The road, buildings, and empty lots look vastly different at night, as most things usually do, which makes this unfamiliar terrain even more foreign to Jonas.  Luckily, countless hours pouring over the maps and available images online are enough for Jonas to be at least somewhat sure of his location and the direction of his destination.

 

379 Rail Avenue is south-west of Jonas’ position, off the main road, secluded within the complex.  It’s easy to overlook and unlikely to just stumble upon, making it an optimal location for a secret meeting.  The warehouse itself is on the smaller side with relatively high windows, so even if you did happen upon it, you wouldn’t be able to peek inside.  They aren’t stupid.  Jonas has to give them that. 

 

The twins reviewed multiple potential routes to 379 Rail Avenue.  It was frustratingly difficult to evaluate the safety of each, having never set foot here and relying solely on vague internet sources to try to piece together a plan.  Standing at the starting point of all four paths, Jonas sees that maybe they didn’t do such a bad job.

 

Weighing his options, Jonas slinks as best he can around the corner, hugging the wall and clinging to the shadows at the edge of the street before hunkering down at the edge of the building to decide his next move.  Would it be better to stay along the main road, or risk getting lost in the side streets between the buildings?  Jonas checks his watch, seven minutes left and still a lot of ground to cover.  It’s so disturbingly quiet that Jonas feels the need to stifle every breath and heartbeat to keep them from ringing in the air for everyone within a quarter mile to hear.  It’s time to move, now, or he might never make it as the fear congeals in his legs and lungs, threatening to hold him to the spot.

 

_ Come on, MOVE. _ A booming command roars between his ears.  Jonas furiously scrubs his eyes with his forearm and keeps moving down the street, staying close to the wall, deciding on the most open path.  What’s the point of sneaking through side alleys if the enemy is expecting him anyway?

 

Jonas manages to hold onto this dismissive attitude for all of five more minutes, until he peers around a corner and there before him is 379 Rail Avenue.  The numbers are mounted above the door and from the high windows there’s a faint, but unmistakable glow of light from within.

 

Jonas nearly shits a brick on the spot and his knees turn to jello, his vision wobbling.  Forcing air in and out of through his nose, he slides to his knees, trying to force the wave of nauseous anxiety away.  His mouth is watering, a telltale sign that he’s going to retch on the spot and he holds it down.  Jonas looks at his watch again, one minute to go.    _ Keep moving _ , he wills himself to stand, staring at the warehouse; the door is cracked open, and there’s sliver of light slipping out onto the street.  There is no way he can do this, but there’s no choice and nowhere to go. He feels like there is a knife in his back that’s pushing him forward, into the jaws of a predator.

 

With great effort, Jonas starts walking, wondering if this is what it feels like to take your final walk on death row.  The door looms closer and closer until Jonas can reach out and wrap his hands around the large handle.  He pulls it open before the roaring panic in his chest can stop him, taking in the room with wide eyes.

 

The warehouse may not be the biggest in the complex, but it’s still one of the largest rooms Jonas has ever walked into.  Pulling the door closed behind him, Jonas observes that his surroundings consist of a relatively empty room, the middle open and bare, the walls lined with large wooden crates and equipment stacked far above his head.  Jonas’ shoes scrape against the dirty floor as he moves deeper into the room, absorbing as much as he can in the few precious seconds he has before shit inevitably hits the fan.  

 

Above him, the weak lights barely make it to the edge of the warehouse floor, throwing the walls into shadows, illuminating the dusty air, but he sees nothing that he’s looking for.  There’s no hostage, no TDT members, not even the leader that called him here in the first place.  Was this really a trap?  His stomach turns for the worse and he steps further into the room, searching desperately.  This must be a mistake.  Jonas looks at his watch, it’s 2:01.  Panic is beginning to pour into his system.  He must have gotten it wrong; this must be the wrong warehouse and now he’s late and someone is getting hurt because of him.

 

He takes a few more hurried steps, into the center of the room, sweeping his head from side to side desperately,  _ where are they? _  His clothes feel too close to his skin and his heart threatens to beat out of his chest.  Jonas’ mind whirls, going over the address, over everything he’s seen from the images of the warehouse he found online and compares it to what he saw outside, and yes, this is the right place!  Anger and fear mingle in the air, red and green growing in a wide circle around him.

 

“I wasn’t sure you’d show.”  Like a ghost, the voice floats down in an airy echo.   Reflexively, Jonas’ colors wrap around him tightly, and Jonas snaps his head up, chasing the source, and there it is.  There  _ he _ is, sitting atop a tall stack of crates well over twenty feet in the air with one leg hanging off the edge and the other leg bent, acting as an armrest.  He’s so high that the lights barely blanket half his body and from the waist up he’s cloaked in shadows.  It looks like there’s nothing behind that mask but a voice and that power Jonas has seen crush solid metal.

 

Jonas makes a noise deep in his throat that he prays can’t be heard from this distance.  Looking up at him now, it’s reminiscent of the first time Jonas saw him, perched like a hawk far above Jonas.  The man speaks again, “You’re a tricky fucker to track down, you know that?” He laughs, and it’s loud, amplified by the acoustics of the room into a booming chorus that makes Jonas’ knees threaten to give along his spine, but Jonas forces himself to stand as tall as he can manage.

 

“I missed you.”  The man’s disgustingly pleasant and familiar in a way that tickles something in the back of Jonas’ brain.  The notorious crime boss above him shifts his position, letting his leg hang over the edge of the crate with the first, hunching over, his hands resting on either side of his legs.

 

There’s a few beats of silence, and it becomes clear he’s waiting for some kind of reply so Jonas does his best to assemble some kind of train of thought.  “...Where’s the hostage?”  He demands with a voice only slightly louder than normal, but it’s so quiet that his voice carries easily.  Thank God; if he tries to speak any louder, Jonas doesn’t think he’ll have enough strength to shout  _ and _ keep his legs from giving out at the same time.

 

A few more beats of silence pass.  Jonas wills himself to speak up again, “Tell me what you want, and give me the hostage.”  He shifts his footing, keeping his shields up, and glares up at the gangster.

 

More silence.  Jonas begins to wonder if he was heard at all before the gangster interrupts his thoughts, “There is no hostage.”  There’s no amusement, no taunting joke, just a statement injected into the air for Jonas to digest.   _ Uh, what? _

 

It stuns Jonas into confusion and disbelief, “What?” he asks, dumbfounded, isn’t that why Jonas is here in the first place?  Whatever vague expectations and impressions Jonas had for this situation dissolve, and he’s even less sure of, well, anything.  What if this really is just a trap?  Jonas takes a step back, walls of light raising and glowing with even brighter intensity to deflect any attack from anywhere.

 

“Wait!” The gangster throws his hand out, hand open, and in response Jonas pauses his retreat with knees bent, anxiously awaiting something to come flying at him.  “Don’t!  I just wanna talk.” He continues, with the deliberately slow tone of someone trying to soothe a frightened animal.  Jonas doesn’t buy it.

 

His hues of green mingle with red, “Just want to talk?”  Jonas echos with heated irritation.  Above him, the gangster pushes himself off the crates and drops like a stone.  He falls fast, startling Jonas, and only slows when he’s about five feet off the ground to land with ease, like he didn’t just drop at least thirty feet.

 

This is the closest Jonas has ever been to the notorious gangster and first time on the same level.

 

He’s just as huge as Jonas remembers, easily a foot taller.  There’s nothing about him, from his feet, to his hands, to his head that could be categorized as normal.  A complete giant.   He puts his hands into the pockets of his leather vest and Jonas notices it has a spiked hood.  Then, underneath the open vest, he’s wearing a graphic T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up.  Below that, he’s wearing dark jeans and lace-up boots.  It’s pretty standard apparel for every appearance Jonas has been able to find photos of.  No, it’s actually pretty… light.  Usually he wears more protective gear: a bulletproof vest, gloves, knee pads, and holstered weapons.  Unless it’s well concealed, there isn’t so much as a  _ knife _ on the man.  Uneasily, Jonas lowers his shields to just below his face.

 

“Yeah.” He purrs, leaning against the crates, “I knew I couldn’t get ya here unless there was some incentive.  There ain’t a hostage.”  He shrugs impassively at Jonas.  Lost underneath the mask, Jonas scowls and glares.

 

“My guys couldn’t find you to deliver the message, so I got... creative.  We got interrupted before, and I wanted to chat somewhere quiet without any cops around to fuck it up again.”

 

He’s conversational, his posture not exactly relaxed, but definitely not poised to pounce either.  Jonas mulls over his response for a few moments, letting him wait this time, “So you manipulated me into being here?  To ‘talk’?  What could we possibly talk about that’s worth all this?”  Jonas gestures around them.

 

The gangster pulls his hands out of his pockets, holding them up in mild surrender and pushes off the wall to move a few paces forward, “Hey, I was out of ideas, and this shit’s important.  I just…” His hands go back into his pockets, and he shifts his weight.  For a moment, Jonas thinks this might be genuine awkwardness, “Wanna get to know ya’ is all.  Maybe we don’t gotta be enemies, you know?”  There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, but he quickly gains back that obnoxious confidence.  “We got off on the wrong foot.”

 

Jonas scoffs, shocked by the sheer audacity of this infamous gangster playing at being friendly.  Disgusted, Jonas snaps, “The wrong foot?  Your gangsters nearly killed my  _ family _ and held the city in terror, and you consider that getting off on the wrong foot?!”  His voice bounces around the room, red painting the walls and lighting every corner, throwing dark shadows, “You threw a  _ car _ at me too!”

 

The gangster slides his hands out from his pockets, letting them rest at his sides as he silently takes the onslaught, expression hidden from him.  Jonas grows impatient, “Well?!”  He balls the cuffs of his sleeves in his fists.  Amazingly, he’s almost forgotten his fear.

 

“...You know the body count of that night?”  There’s barely a hint of anger in his voice and the question stops Jonas for a moment, he considers it, “... no one.”

 

“That’s right.  No one.  Some hurt, some scared, but nobody died.  You know why?”  His anger rises a pinch and he jams his thumb against his chest, “because  _ I said so _ .  I told those dickheads that if they killed anyone, they were gonna meet a bloody fucking death themselves.”

 

Jonas stills and the gangster keeps talking, “Remember the bank heist?  Nobody died that time either.  I don’t kill if I don’t fucking have to.  Especially not innocent people.  So whatever fucking monster you built me up to be?  That ain’t me.”

 

He visibly calms, gesturing around them, “All this, is because I wanna talk, simple as that.”

 

Jonas stares and hesitantly lowers his walls just a little more, below his chest, “Why?”

 

“I think we can be friends, uh, allies, yeah.  You’re new to this shit and I thought we could help each other out.  There’s a lot of shit going on in this town I don’t think you know about.”  He takes a careful step forward, and Jonas anxious raises his walls again.  

 

He keeps talking, “And you seem like you’re by yourself.  You gotta have people watching your back, unless you got eyes on the back of your head that is.”  He laughs nervously, “You don’t gotta join or nothin’... but we could work together.”

 

Jonas takes a step back, analyzing every word to find some hidden agenda in all this.  It can’t really be that simple can it?  He just wants to be ‘friends’?  The infamous leader of The Devil’s Teeth went through all this elaborate planning just to ask Jonas to work with him?  Sidney and Jonas already guessed as much but somehow it can’t possibly be true.

 

“You… you want me to help you rob banks and run a criminal empire?”  Jonas raises his eyebrows, but from this distance it’s probably not noticeable.  Across from him, the gangleader shakes his head, “No!  No.  You don’t gotta do any of that.  I mean, if you wanna, sure, but that’s not what I mean.”

 

He moves a little closer again, cutting a few more feet down between them, “I know you’re not a fan of my gang but we’re fighting some motherfuckers that need to go down.  You probably don’t know jack about them but trust me, if you haven’t run into them yet, you will, and you’re gonna need friends when that shit fan starts spinning.”  Jonas struggles to allow the gangster to shorten the distance between them, maybe this can work out after all.

 

“These bastards are a whole different breed of fucked up, all I’m askin’ is if you’ll he--”  The rest of his question is cut off by the resounding smash of a metal door slamming open and rebounding off the wall behind the gangster.  In the doorway is a large man in a clown mask, who, unlike his boss, is armed with a gun nearly the size of his torso, “BOSS!”

 

Jonas and the gangster both react, snapping their attention to the intruder.  Jonas doesn’t hear what else is shouted, focused on the gun at the man’s side and how far the balance of this entire situation has shifted out of his control.  He jumps back, bringing his arms up, heartbeat erratic, and the wave of intense adrenaline summons Jonas’ powers without him entirely realizing it.

 

In wide arches, Jonas sends a ring of light straight out, towards both gangsters, and another straight up, crashing through the ceiling.  It’s Sidney’s signal to call for help.  If shit weren’t sideways already, it gets worse when the gangster spins back around, shouting as Jonas attacks him.  He defends himself just as aggressively by lifting multiple crates behind him and throwing them into the path of the light’s blade.  They crash together, smashing the wooden crates like cardboard and large fragments of wood fly in all directions.  Before Jonas can recover from the huge expenditure of power and raise a shield, a plank of fractured wood careens directly at him and he shouts, losing his footing as he throws his arms up to protect himself.  There’s a shout that’s not his and Jonas closes his eyes just as the plank crashes into him, and everything disappears into dark silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! That took a while!! This chapter is nearly as long as the first two combined... Forgive me for the pause, but it didn't quite take me six months to push this one out, so perhaps you could forgive me?? Maybe?? I've been SO excited for this chapter that I struggled to not rush the editing process! 28 pages in google docs is... a lot, but in the end I did it. Thanks in part to all the great encouragement I received to continue, so thank you! It was instrumental in keeping me motivated, so you have them to thank! On top of that, my beta reader punkspoonz on tumblr is a doll and will be posting various sketches they've done for me over these past few months. Without them I wouldn't have been able to even come up with the gang's name, The Devil's Teeth, show 'em some love <3\. I'll be editing in some links to their sketches when they finish them so keep an eye out!
> 
> EDIT: Here's the art!
> 
> https://punkath.tumblr.com/post/171372686254/so-in-light-of-my-friend-bumpernums-fic-i
> 
> I'll wrap this up by thanking Mars for this lovely comic I've fallen in love with and if you ever wanna contact me for any reason, seriously do! You can reach me at my tumblr, bumpernums!

**Author's Note:**

> I said I would post this earlier today but it's here now!
> 
> Let me know what you all think and I'm sorry there hasn't been any interaction with Mitch yet but there will most definitely be a LOT of interaction in the next chapter that I have planned! 
> 
> I'm excited because this is my first fanfiction in four years so I'm a little nervous to post it haha.
> 
> WARNING: There will be an obnoxious amount of Sidney Wagner in this fic I love her so much please she is so important to me!! Aaaaah!
> 
> This is so corny but I love Long Exposure like I love comic books so this has... happened. I have at least one other series planned keep an eye out!
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr here: bumpernums.tumblr.com  
> I revived my Twitter which you can find here: @Sweetbr3w  
> Seriously, talk to me. I'm very friendly and will love you if you ask me stuff or want to talk about LE or anything.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!


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